Baby Feet

I love baby feet. When I meet a baby, I can’t wait to get my hands on their cute little feet so I can feel the toes crunch up from a gentle tickle. I love that you can grasp an entire foot in the palm of your hand.

My baby was born with big, flat feet. They keep getting bigger. She is 10 and she is already in a women’s size 9 ½. That’s more than a full size bigger than my feet. They are big and flat and smelly – traits she inherited from my husband. She got the bad toenails from me. I still like to tickle them when they are clean.

This morning, she asked me if I would rub her feet. They were sore from a basketball game where she played almost the entire time (she usually sits out every other period) followed by three hours of skiing. She tried moguls for the first time and survived!

So, my basketball-playing, mogul-skiing baby splayed out across the full length of our couch and plopped her enormous feet onto my lap. They dwarfed my hands.

As soon as I started to rub them, she flinched and twitched and yanked them out of my reach. I fought to keep hold of them and kept rubbing as she tried to wrestle them away. She giggled uncontrollably but kept coming back for more. The giggles grew into full belly laughs and we wrangled and played until we were completely out of breath.

I love baby feet.