Sunday, December 22, 2013

Just dotty

Sometime not so long ago, the girls figured out that the polish on my toes doesn't come out of the same box in the kitchen that supplies the polish they love to paint on their toes. It took them about four seconds after coming to that realization to ask when they could get a real pedicure. Smarties.

I suggested we go for L's birthday, but the weather was snowy and slushy and it wasn't good pedicuring conditions. We decided to go after school on Friday. It was the first hour of winter vacation and it was a strange and wonderful 65 degrees outside. Such conditions practically demand pedicures.

They loved the wall of color and the massaging chairs and the attentive ladies with their exotic accents. I loved their happiness, and while normally I go for a pedicure alone, with a large iced coffee and something fun to read and consider the space of non-interaction to be the most sacred part of the hour, this time I brought no drink and no reading and instead answered their every question and exclamation.

The only thing I couldn't satisfactorily explain is why I didn't want polka dots, too.

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