Toes

Genevieve is all about the walking. Once she gets started, tromping one little foot in front of the other, she focuses all of her awareness on the task. She seems to be watching her boxy feet as they splat their way forward.

Interesting the parallels we find between our weird little lives. I am all about the walking, too. Heel-walking my left foot forward then squarely placing my right foot ahead of it. Glancing down and watching other people’s feet to make sure they are not about to enter my injured toe space.

Genny and I both concentrated on our walking for this brief moment in time. Within days or weeks, I will have forgotten all about the extra care and attention I needed to walk safely. Within weeks or months, Genny will have forgotten about all the extra effort required to walk securely.

I wonder what other skills I will be awarded the opportunity to remaster with Genevieve. Hopefully, nothing having to do with potty training.

Genny has in the past week decided she doesn’t like having her diaper changed. The moment we enter her room and head for the changing table she starts crying and twisting her body. I place her down on her back and she immediately rolls over and stands up. Strapping her down with the belt does no good—she rolls over halfway and gets all twisted up.

My solution for the moment is pull-up diapers. So, now I encourage her to stand up and place her hands on my shoulders while I whip down the old one, do a quick wipe and slip up the new one. Great for pee-diapers, but not so efficient for the poopie ones. She always manages to sit down on her feet and get poop in the crevices of her toes.

Ah, the joys of motherhood that no one can ever take away from you.

Poopie toes and broken toe—I will remember you.