{"id":399,"date":"2026-05-01T12:07:50","date_gmt":"2026-05-01T09:07:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.kazkaland.com\/?post_type=kazka&p=399"},"modified":"2026-05-25T17:32:11","modified_gmt":"2026-05-25T14:32:11","slug":"yak-yuliya-opanovuvala-nozhytsi","status":"publish","type":"kazka","link":"https:\/\/www.kazkaland.com\/en\/kazka\/yak-yuliya-opanovuvala-nozhytsi\/","title":{"rendered":"How Julia mastered scissors"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u23f1 ~5 min reading<\/p>\n\n\n

Julia was four years and three months old when her dad decided it was time to teach her how to use scissors.<\/p>\n\n

Up until that point, she had only owned small, blunt-nosed children's scissors\u2014plastic ones, the kind you could just rustle with but not cut with. She played with them sometimes, but they were more of a toy than a tool.<\/p>\n\n

And the real scissors \u2014 with metal blades \u2014 were in Grandma's box. Yulia looked at them from afar and knew: they couldn't go there.<\/p>\n\n

Until dad said:<\/p>\n\n

\u2014 Yulia, come on. Today I will teach you.<\/p>\n\n

Julia froze. She understood that this was an important moment. She sat down at the table seriously - straightened her apron (Dad asked so as not to damage her clothes).<\/p>\n\n

Dad put a sheet of colored paper on the table \u2014 blue, with sparkles. Next to it \u2014 small children's scissors. Not plastic \u2014 real ones. Only with round tips, safe.<\/p>\n\n

"Here," said Dad. "Hold it like that.".<\/p>\n\n

Julia took the scissors. They were heavy. Silver. Cold. She put her thumb in one loop, two fingers in the other.<\/p>\n\n

"Now squeeze. See how they close? Now open them. Like this. Squeeze. Open. Squeeze. Open.".<\/p>\n\n

Yulia tried. At first it was difficult - her fingers didn't quite obey. Then - it was fine.<\/p>\n\n

"Well," said Dad, "shall we try cutting?"<\/p>\n\n

\u2014 Yes!<\/p>\n\n

Dad pointed to the blue sheet.<\/p>\n\n

"Cut a strip. A thin one. Just run the scissors along the edge.".<\/p>\n\n

Julia took the sheet of paper in one hand. The scissors in the other. She got ready.<\/p>\n\n

Crack-crack-crack \u2014 the scissors went along the edge.<\/p>\n\n

Only... not quite on the edge.<\/p>\n\n

Julia initially wanted to go straight. But her hand trembled a little. The paper went unevenly. The scissors went left, then right. The strip came out:<\/p>\n\n

\u2014 it is wider<\/p>\n\n

\u2014 it is narrower<\/p>\n\n

\u2014 with small \u00abteeth\u00bb where Julia pressed harder<\/p>\n\n

\u2014 with a gap in the middle because the scissors got caught there<\/p>\n\n

In general, it's a curve.<\/p>\n\n

When Julia finished cutting, she had a small strip of blue paper in one hand. In the other, a blank sheet with a cut edge.<\/p>\n\n

Julia looked at her strip.<\/p>\n\n

She felt sad.<\/p>\n\n

\u201cDad\u2026\u201d she said quietly, \u201cI\u2019m not good at it.\u201d.<\/p>\n\n

\u2014 Why?<\/p>\n\n\n

\"\u042f\u043a<\/figure>\n\n\n

\u201cLook. It\u2019s crooked.\u201d She pointed to the strip. \u201cIt\u2019s not right.\u201d.<\/p>\n\n

Dad looked at the strip. Then at his daughter. Then at the strip again.<\/p>\n\n

He didn't laugh. He didn't say, "It's okay, better next time." He didn't say, "Try again." Instead, he did something strange.<\/p>\n\n

He took the strip carefully. He placed it in his palm, like a jewel. Along with his hand, he looked around the living room for something.<\/p>\n\n

On the shelf was a small wooden frame with glass. It had once held a photo\u2014their family photo from the beach. But Mom had moved the photo to another album, and the frame was empty.<\/p>\n\n

Dad stood up. He took the frame. He opened it \u2014 carefully, like a surgeon. He put Yulia's strip in there \u2014 the same one, blue, crooked, with teeth.<\/p>\n\n

He closed it. He stuck it on the wall \u2014 on the same nail where the family photo once hung.<\/p>\n\n

Julia stood with round eyes.<\/p>\n\n

\u201cDad,\u201d she whispered. \u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d<\/p>\n\n

Dad squatted down to be at her level.<\/p>\n\n

\u2014 Because this is your first strip, Yulia. And everything we do for the first time deserves love. Even the crooked ones. Maybe even especially crooked ones. Because the crooked ones show that you studied honestly. You didn't cheat. You didn't avoid. You just tried. And that's the most beautiful thing.<\/p>\n\n

Julia looked at the frame.<\/p>\n\n

A blue curved strip with teeth inside. On the wall. Like a real painting.<\/p>\n\n

\u201cWhen will I learn to cut straight?\u201d she asked hesitantly.<\/p>\n\n

"Someday. Maybe in a year. Maybe in two. Someday.".<\/p>\n\n

\u2014 And the strip then?<\/p>\n\n

"And the strip will remain. As a reminder. That you once didn't know how. And still, you started.".<\/p>\n\n

Julia nodded. There was something special in her eyes\u2014it was as if a little light bulb had come on.<\/p>\n\n

She went to the table. She took a new strip of paper. And started again. This time - without fear of being crooked. Because she knew: crooked is also worthy.<\/p>\n\n

A year later, Yulia cut out exactly. She loved to cut out. She had piles of different shapes in her room \u2014 circles, squares, hearts. She made collages, cards, and decorations.<\/p>\n\n

Five years later, she was already sewing dresses for her dolls. Her grandmother gave her a small sewing machine. Yulia sewed diligently, neatly, and evenly.<\/p>\n\n

Ten years later, she entered art school, majoring in "Clothing Design.".<\/p>\n\n

Twenty years later, Yulia became a fashion designer. She had her own small workshop in the city center. Women wore her dresses on holidays. Her photo hung in the window, next to an evening dress.<\/p>\n\n

And on the wall of the workshop - in the most visible place - hung a small wooden frame with a blue curved strip with teeth inside.<\/p>\n\n

When new students came to her \u2014 young girls and boys who were afraid to start \u2014 Yulia always showed them this frame.<\/p>\n\n

"See?" she said. "This is my first stripe. I was four years old. I couldn't do it. And all my teachers\u2014and my dad\u2014and everyone\u2014taught me one thing. Don't be afraid to start crooked. The most important thing is to start. Straightness comes later.".<\/p>\n\n

The students looked at the strip. They smiled. And they went to make. Their first strips. Their first stitches. Their first measurements.<\/p>\n\n

And Yulia smiled - she knew that her father had given her the best lesson. Not in the ability to cut. But in the ability to love the curve, because it is real.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n\n

\u2728 Everything we do for the first time deserves love - even the crooked ones \u2728<\/p>\n\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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