Little Dirty Birdie Feet

No one is perfect. I'm (obviously) the first one to admit my faults. We all have them. It's what makes us human, our mistakes, our weird idiosyncratic behaviors. This is what is so easy to love about kids, too: their willingness to admit their mistakes, their readiness to say, "I dunno..." and their penchant to "say the darnedest things". We were at lunch today at the dining room table and I kept getting a whiff of something. We were having turkey and roast beef sandwiches and as I was eating one myself, I knew it wasn't because the lunch meat that was rotten. I found myself looking down at the floor thinking their was some old piece of steamed broccoli that had rotted under the table. Oh yes, we've lived here two months and I have yet to steam a head of broccoli, let alone attempt to serve it to my children as such and not hidden under a blanket of dressing or cheese. Come on! I'm flawed, yes, but I'm no amateur with these kids! That definitely could not be it. It passed. I ate on. It came again. "What IS that smell?!" My husband responds (God bless him), "What smell?" "Something STINKS! How can you not smell it?!" My dear sweet daughter pipes in, "That's me!" "What is you?" "I've been farting and my feet smell really bad." She then points out that her brother's feet stink, too! And their shoes do, too! Well, that explains it. I go on to say that I am going to throw out the shoes because I cannot believe they smell so bad and my insightful husband points out, "Dont't throw them out before you buy new ones or you aren't going to be able to leave the house with two barefoot children..." Good point! I'm relieved that fall is coming soon and now, suddenly folding a bazillion clean socks doesn't seem so bad in comparison to dealing with stinky shoes. At least she was honest... That's all for now...