But it worked, right?

I'm with Alex in his room getting ready for bed when I notice a fairly large hole (quarter inch?) right in the middle of the chest area of his FAVORITE super hero shirt (that he got from his awesome godmother for his birthday). As I'm lamenting the hole and asking if he knew how it happened, he is answering "I don't know, Mama." Then when I start musing about what may have caused it - jacket zipper, etc. - Alex buries his face and starts saying "I don't want to tell you" to me.

Dead giveaway that something was done that shouldn't have been.

So I finally get the story out of him. There was apparently a spot on his shirt that he didn't want, so he got his scissors and just cut it out. I then explained that even if he can't find me (his excuse), that he will never be at home alone and needs to NOT ever do that again and just let me fix it. He got so sad when I told him that the shirt was ruined and we'd have to get rid of it ("But Mama, can't you just put a patch on it like you are going to do for my jeans?") that I'm going to use my stuff that stops fraying on it and hope it doesn't get any bigger. At least in the winter he wears the shirt with a long-sleeved one underneath.

The boy actually pointed out that I hadn't noticed the hole all evening, which is right. Though I think I drilled the "scissors are only for paper" message into his head enough this evening that maybe he'll remember.