Parenting takes you to some weird places, most of which you had no idea existed. It’s all part of the fun when you’re aiming to make it through a day with a toddler with a minimum of trauma and a maximum of amusement.
For example: I am a college-educated woman living a happy middle-class life. I am (generally speaking) mentally stable. I do not believe in fairies. Why, then, did I start talking to my son’s feet a week ago?
I don’t recall a considered decision-making process, but it probably had something to do with a fussy kid on a changing table, because that’s where it always happens. See, the feet get restless, so they kick, and that kind of gets in the way of things like wiping and diaper cream and putting on pants. But if you talk to the feet and tell them, individually, what’s coming, they listen and chill out and let you do what you need to do.
The interesting thing is that the feet have different personalities. Right Foot is more outgoing and confident, quick to answer that yes, he’s ready for the sock. Left Foot (a/k/a Friend of Right Foot) is so shy as to be inaudible. You must press your ear to his big toe in order to hear his response.
Like I said, no mental illness that I’m aware of. But I’m not the only one who’s into it — the Boo will thoughtfully speak up for the recalcitrant foot if he (the foot) is feeling particularly shy. He will also request that I speak to the feet, chirping a plaintive “please” while holding his feet aloft over his bare bottom. And that, my friends, is about as high as you can get on both the Humor and Cuteness scales.
Mama-Come-Lately 