Brush. Clip. Scissors??

Emlyn loves to fix my hair. She climbs up behind me while I am at my desk and brushes and fixes to her heart's content. *Usually* it is relaxing. Today, however, was a bit different:

Emlyn brushes my hair, putting it up into a pony tail with an elastic band. "I need a clip," she says, "hand me a clip, please?"

"I don't have a clip, Em..."

"Okay, just hand me the scissors, then."

ACKKKK.

"Scissors?" I try to keep my voice even.

"Yeah, if you don't have a clip, I need to cut this hair."

I found her a clip.