Toes

I love my husband dearly, and he is a handsome wonderful man in so very many ways... except for his toes.  Let's just say he doesn't have a future as a foot model.  I suppose in part his ongoing excuse that all tennis players have bad feet may have some validity, but man oh man.  I'm convinced that if he simply applied some sort of remedy to his toes the nails would recover, but unless I can find some way to do it for him it will probably never happen.

Sadly I've made the mistake of commenting about Hari's feet in front of the boys.

The other day Hari told me that while I was at the gym he was helping Ryan in the bathroom.  (Set the picture: shouting from the potty... Daddy... I'M DOOOONE!)  Hari goes in to perform his fatherly duties.  Ryan leans over and offers his derriere for wiping, and proclaims,

"Daddy, I don't like your DUMB toes."

Since then the commentary is ongoing.

This morning at breakfast Ryan told me that he wants to go apple picking with just me, and Colin can go separately with Daddy.  I suggested that we would go together as a family.  Nope, he doesn't want to go with Daddy.  Why?  Because Daddy has DUMB toes.

Important note: when you say it you must have significant, angry emphasis on the word DUMB.

Beware the wrath of a 4-year-old boy who doesn't approve of your toes.