She screamed at him,
Stop it, stop it right now,
How many times must I tell you,
And he stopped,
Looked up at her and smiled,
With  the innocence of adolescence,
He looked up, wide eyed his index finger perched on his lip,
"Sorry mum,"  said he,
Mummy dashed off to the kitchen,
Thought maybe was time for tea,
Instead, she trotted back in,
Complete, with garden shears,
Snip, snip, chop, chop, off his fingers they did drop,
A pile of fingers left on the floor,
How many times did she tell him before,
Don't bite  your nails!
You should have seen his dripping fingers, hacked off at their sockets.
(C) Livvi