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Friday Funnies: How Do You Like My Toenails?


If you’re new to my blog, I save Friday posts for things that made me chuckle during the week. This was a good week and I found myself laughing often. This week’s prize, though, goes to my youngest. He gets mentioned by me quite often because he’s full of it in a completely adorable, pull-your-hair-out kind of way.

His little friend came over to play this morning and the first thing he says to her is, “How do you like my toenails?” A fairly odd thing to say unless you know why. Right now my son’s toenails are bright pink and yellow. As in fuchsia and sunshine.

Fun stuff.

He has two older sisters. What can I say?

Even better was last week when I remembered he had these neon-painted toenails after I took off his socks in an indoor play center. By the time I realized what his sisters had done, he was already off running. Lots of parents. Lots of kids. Hundreds of toes. But only one with yellow and pink toenails.

“Yep. That’s my boy.”

But what was I going to do? Ask the front counter if they happened to carry nail polish remover? Track him down and rip off his toenails? I’m pretty sure he would have frowned on that, so I shrugged at the disapproving father behind me and pretended like it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe that dad thinks I’m one of those hip, new-age moms who let’s her boys paint their nails fuchsia and sunshine, instead of an over-worked, under-observant mother who should be paying more attention to what is going on behind closed bathroom doors.

The polish has faded and chipped in this picture, but in that indoor play place they were bright and vibrant as ever. My daughters should be proud. Or shot.

The ironic thing is that this boy hates all things “Girl.” He’s the sportiest kid I’ve ever known. I uploaded a little video of him on youtube last year so our extended family could see him dunk. He’s been schooled by his older brothers to know the differences between boys and girls, meaning that boys are cool and awesome and girls are stinky and obnoxious. Because of this, he has a strong aversion for anything pink or frilly—except, apparently, nail polish. He’s very proud of his toes, as made evident by his comment to his friend this morning. (She loved his toenails by the way). I guess his brothers neglected to teach him what it means to be a jock. Then again, who knows? Maybe Eli Manning runs around with pink and yellow toenails. We’ll never know.

But it wasn’t just his toenails that cracked me up. I found out this week that he’s quite a little dancer, too. (If my husband reads this post, I’m dead meat. Maybe I’ll convince him that it’s great bribery for the teen years.) As I mentioned yesterday, our family went to a Pistons game and my little sports boy was in basketball heaven. He watched the whole game from the edge of his seat. He was hyper enough that anytime music blared over the loud speakers he had to to jump up and dance. I was so amused that I caught this little snippet of him.

I would love to take credit for his amazing dance moves, but really, people who know me and my husband know there isn’t a dancing gene on either side of the family. No. His moves come from no other place than Just Dance 3. Ever since that game entered our house, suddenly all my kids have moves. It’s changing Belliston history. There’s hope that we might not all be doomed to Wall Flower Loserville. Maybe, just maybe, my children will be able to hold their chins up at their high school proms some day. It’s awesome.

In case you think I’m biased, the camera man spotted these same great moves and my little sports nut was suddenly dancing on the big screen for the whole arena to see. “Yeah. That’s my son! Pink toenails and all!”

Maybe somebody will buy me some nail polish remover.

Do any other mothers have these moments? I realize I’m far from Mother of the Year, but I’m really hoping it’s not just me here.

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