He sighed, tiny fingers rubbing at his head as he tried to find the words. He hated words, they never came out right and Father got so mad... But it was so hard to tell sometimes what was spoken what was heard and what was heard and how could he make them hear?
"Don't make promises without a price. Trouble trouble double trouble in pretty little packages. Pretty poison on the tongue but only the lies matter because..." he stopped, shook his head and started over, looking at them hard.
"It's like a thread that goes to the sun. It's too bright to see but you feel your way along. Give up your scissors to soon, you don't know what will trip your feet as you follow. Don't make promises without a price."