K: My big toes are the Mommy and Daddy and they have 8 children. 4 boys and 4 girls.
K asks me what are some things I need to do today. After I tell her, she says, "Hmm. I don't know if I can spell 'laundry'". She goes off by herself for awhile, then comes back with this checklist.
T is totally grossed out by the small cut on my foot after I accidentally dropped a butter knife. "Shouldn't you put a band-age on?" he keeps asking me, wringing his hands together worriedly.
One day I paint my toes for the first time in years. The kids gather to watch the process and are entranced. They both wish I would put nail polish on their toenails. A couple days later as T watches the birds hunting seed around the bird feeders, he suddenly exclaims, "The dove painted his feet!" Sure enough, mourning doves' legs do have a distinct rosy coral color.
"Silly," K tells him. "Birds can't do that. Besides, the paint bucket would be too heavy."
Munching our lunches, we all cogitate a moment on Mr. Dove finding a way to paint his feet.