3 Foot Things and 1 Organizer

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.

There's more things on it than what I told her.  Later she reminds me that I forgot to change the tablecloth.  Again.  Sigh.  I know she's just trying to be helpful.  In a few years she will be a stellar household manager.  Or something.

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.