After Emil baths on Sunday mornings, he calls me.
“Mom could you come and put my Band-Aids on please?”
Last year his big toes pushed into the ones beside them and caused blisters; now the blisters are calluses and the Band-Aids are just extra insurance so they don’t blister again.
“But wait,” I say. “I’ll trim your toenails.”
This was done just last weekend when he was here, but he has twisted nails and thick claws; an extra trim won’t hurt these hoofs.
I’m very careful, getting some sharp points removed, making sure I don’t cut into the quick, but this takes alittle longer than Emil hoped and I can feel or maybe hear him pressing his lips together impatiently.
“Am I taking too long?”
“Well … well … I wanted to have some breakfast.”
“Well … well … when Kathy or Sue do it at Aylesbury House, they do it fast.”
What can I say?
“Don’t move your feet while I get the broom and sweep up these clippings.”
If Duckie Doodle is nearby when I clip my toenails, he’ll rush forward and lick them up. No one else’s toenail clippings are as tasty, apparently, because he shows no interest.
Yes, I’m reduced to blogging about toenails.
*** Carved ram graces a table at Vickie’s.