Tools by Any Other Name - An Update

I've been carrying this Leatherman multi-tool with me for years. It is incredibly handy. 

In 2013, I wrote about using it to cut Char' straws down to size when we are at restaurants. 

I wanted a Leatherman Juice S2 because I knew someone else who owned one. I was surprised by the $60 price tag, so I turned to my friends on eBay. I bought my Juice S2 for half that from a recently retired Leatherman employee. The seller stated that they were given the tool with their name engraved on one side, but their name wasn't stated anywhere in the listing. It was a mystery. 

Here's the seller's name.

Daphne and I have jokingly called the S2 "LaVerta" so often, the name has stuck. If we are out and about and something needs to be cut or tightened, Daphne will ask me, "Do you have LaVerta with you?" Without thinking, I'll fish her out of my pocket.

Charlotte has grown up with this, and she asks for it by name without a hint of humor, "Dad, where's LaVerta? I need to cut this string."

LaVerta has a nice patina from years of service, but she's as sharp as ever.

I received my first pocketknife when I was about Charlotte's age. I thought about buying another S2 for her, but Leatherman retired that model. I looked for a suitable replacement and settled on the Squirt PS4. It's smaller than the S2, but has shares some of the same tools. It should fit Char's hands nicely.

I noticed that the Leatherman site offers engraving for a small fee.

Hmm... why not? 

The real LaVerta lived in Oregon when I bought her Leatherman. I hope she doesn't mind that there is a family in Iowa that uses her name on a weekly basis. 

The next time Charlotte asks me for my LaVerta, I can say, "You know, I think it's about time you had your own." 

Family traditions... you never know how they are going to start. 

Update: 2/18/2020

I decided to give Charlotte her LaVerta for Valentine's Day. It's red and white, and that seemed appropriate. Char was so excited when she opened the Leatherman box and found her LaVerta inside. She pumped her fist in the air and hollered, " YESSS!" This was followed by, "I can't believe you got me a pocketknife! What made you think of it?" She explored the available tools, and when she opened the knife blade, she pointed it at invisible foes and threatened, "Die fiends!" She then folded the blade into the tool, stood up, and walked over to give me a hug, "I love it, Dad."

I was probably more excited about that gift than she was. I talked to several people at work about how thrilled she was with her multi-tool.

The next day Daphne was gone for a jazz competition, so I had Char to myself. In the morning I thought it would be a good idea for Char to use her LaVerta to open the gift box for Valentine's day that Grandma Betty had sent her. 

We discussed knife safety like cutting in the direction that is away from her body, but I apparently wasn't thorough enough. She was bleeding two seconds later. I tried to calm her down and assure her that she had not cut off her thumb. We went upstairs to get a Band-Aid, and while wiping her tears away, I talked her into getting back on her horse and trying again. 

Char attempted to get the blade under the cardboard flap, but she shoved it into the corrugated edge instead. Before I could stop her, Charlotte attempted to cut through the corrugation, which she couldn’t do. When she increased pressure, the blade jumped free and cut her palm. 

**“Owwww!” Tears flow, again. Paper towel pressure applied, again. Tissues for tears, again. Upstairs for a Band-Aid, again.**

I couldn’t make myself hand her the LaVerta, again, so I opened the package, and she consoled herself by eating a few marshmallow Unicorn Horns. Neither injury amounted to more than a papercut, but I felt disappointed, angry, and guilty. Who wants to give their kid something that will hurt them? 

This was all my fault. I had essentially been bragging to my friends how I had found a “great” gift for Charlotte, and looked what happened. That's what you get for bragging... 

Who pays for the sins of the parents? The children do, of course. 

Daphne was practical about it when I told her what happened. She said, "Well, I guess she learned to be more respectful of sharp knives."

I suppose it is true that she will be around sharp edges for the rest of her life. But I still felt that this time the tool's name was Dad.