Foot fe*tish

Sam walked over to my friend J, bent down and inspected her toenails, then gave the big toenail a few rubs with the pad of his thumb.  Then without saying a word, he stood up and walked away.

 

J looked at me and said, "What was that all about?"  I chuckled nervously and joked, "Oh, just a bit of a foot fe*tish.  He gets that from his father."

 

But the truth is so much more than that.  I think it started when he was a wee baby who didn't like to sleep in his crib.  I'd camp out in a sleeping bag on the floor next to his crib and snake my arm up through the railing so he could hold my hand and know I was still there.  He'd rub my fingernails gently as he drifted off to sleep, and then I'd carefully disentangle my hand from his grasp so I could make my way to my own bed.

 

Until he was about 2 years old, he also insisted on rubbing my fingernails when we were in the car for long stretches.  I'd finally have to say "no more" when my arm threatened to fall off from the weird angle it was at in order to reach his carseat.  Then I'd listen to wails of "Hand, hand!" as he begged for me to return my beloved fingernails to his possession.

 

One day his daycare teacher mentioned to me that he liked to rub her fingernails as he fell asleep.  I felt oddly betrayed, thinking But I thought MY fingernails were the only ones he loved. 

 

When summer came around and the bare feet came out, it became obvious that toenails were far superior due to their larger rubbing surface.  Recently, Sam told me how much he loved my toenails.  "They're so....rubby," he explained.

 

I think maybe I see a future for him in podiatry.