Is that concerning?
For years, Craig has taken great delight in mercilessly teasing me about my toes. They don’t bother me nearly as much as they bother him, and that alone bothers him much more than it should. Apparently people whose toe next to their big toe is longer than the big toe (no matter how I word that, it just doesn't come out right) deserve much scorn, shame, and embarrassment. Yes, my second toe … pointer toe … second in command to the big toe … in indeed the longest toe I have.
(Raise eyebrows here and crinkle your upper lip slightly)
I’m telling you this for a reason, I swear. Well, besides affirming to the world that I am even stranger than you initially thought and that Craig and I apparently have nothing better to talk about than my feet on a regular basis. Our conversations regarding my feet typically go like this:
CRAIG: Your feet are so weird.
ME: Come on Craig – you know what they say about people with toes like mine.
CRAIG: Um, nope. That you are weird.
ME: Yes, you do. Remember we have this conversation on a way too regular basis because you are freakishly obsessed with pointing out my unique attributes.
CRAIG: The weird ones?
ME: Ugh. It means that I am a LEADER, not a FOLLOWER.
CRAIG: No, it means you have square feet. You should just buy shoes, throw away the shoes and wear the boxes.
On a fairly regular basis, Craig returns to teasing me about my toes. A few years ago, in an attempt to irritate him even more about my toes, I realized something priceless. Do you know the dexterity you have with toes like this? I can expertly pick something up off the floor, with my feet, without even bending over. Craig can heckle me all he wants, but that is skill and is the epitome of multitasking and laziness all perfectly wrapped up in one. It also assists is a variety of stealth missions where retrieving an item from the floor, unbeknownst to others is an advantage.
Oh, what? How did that get up here? I don’t know. Did you pick it up? No, you didn’t bend over? Nope, me neither. Odd.
Not that I would ever think about actually using my toes to pick up things, but it is nice to know that I could, you know, if I ever needed to. Quadbidextrious? It’s been years since I’ve utilized this skill to annoy my husband. In fact, I sort of forgot about it in the arsenal of things I use TO DRIVE MY HUSBAND TO DELERIUM.
Until I turned around on vacation and saw this.
And moments later, this:
I watched as Craig looked at her. There was no way I could convince him that I hadn’t taught her that just to annoy her father. I swear, it must BE IN THE GENES. Who knows what that means for the poor kid? Teaching her to do that would have been sheer genius and there is no way I would be denying it if I could take the slightest bit of credit for it. Believe me.
And all my dear, dear husband could say was, “That’s great Lyndsay. She inherited your FINGERTOES!”