Nails

It's tough to keep Lyla's fingernails trimmed. That might be the most boring sentence on the entire internet.

She wakes up from time to time with a new scratch on her face. We could get little gloves for her to wear to bed, but that feels like the not-so-distant cousin of padded walls and straight-jackets. "Here Lyla, let's put these on. We need to protect you from yourself."

And that reminds me of the Simpsons episode where they move to Cypress Creek and Bart ends up in the remedial class and the teacher says, "Now everyone take out your safety pencil and a circle of paper." We don't want that to happen to Lyla, do we?

Or Edward Scissorhands when Winona Ryder says, "Hold me" and he says, "I can't." Tragic!

I should mention that fingernail cutting falls under Julie's jurisdiction, not mine.

"Um hello? I cut her fingernails all the time. I cut them before she scratched herself the last time."

"Okay, I'll let them know."

"You know, you could always cut them."

When Julie starts italicizing everything, I know it's best to shut up. And there's no way I'm going near Lyla's fingernails. All I can think about is missing the nail and clipping off the finger, blood everywhere, duct taping the thing back on--not pretty.

But Lyla's scratches do typically disappear by lunchtime. She might have claws like Wolverine, but she heals like him too.