Out of the Mouths of Babes

This post is in response to the Tootsie post by a fellow blogger. While in her classroom today, we got talking with the kids about how writers get ideas from other writers for ideas...so, point made!

I am always in a quandary about nail polish. On my fingers, I rarely wear it. On my toes, almost always. But it's a quandary because my feet, well.... they don't look so good. They are runner's feet. They've been abused by all the miles put on them. They are, simply put, not my best feature. So this is where the quandary comes in. If you polish the toenails of ugly feet, does it make them look better? Or does it simply draw more attention to those ugly feet so more people notice how ugly those ugly feet really are? This has always been the debate in my head. One day, I happen to share this internal debate with my first graders.

While reading aloud one day late in the year, I told the children to scoochie up close so they could really see the pictures. It was a warm spring day and I had some sassy capris and a new pair of black sandals, my toenails freshly painted. As the children came closer to hear the story, cute little Peyton was practically sitting in my lap. I start reading the book to the kids, encouraging them to read along, asking probing questions, doing all sorts of good teacherly strategies, when I look down and notice Peyton hasn't been paying attention at all. She's been sitting right there, front row seat, and has been completely distracted the entire time. What has she been looking at? My toes! My freshly pedicured cherry red toenails! I attempt to redirect her by dropping her name in the middle of the book. Momentarily it works and then, once again, her gaze drops down to my toes. After another attempt or two, I finally pause the book, my finger as a bookmark holding the page we were on.
I ask her, "Peyton, what on earth is so fascinating that you are looking at."
"Your toes. Your red, red toes."
I told her of my dilemma, about whether or not my battered dogs could really handle cherry red nail polish. I told her (and the rest of the class, now all of them also starring at my feet!) about how running was a great way to stay in shape but it was rough on my feet.
She looked up at me with her saucer brown eyes, and with all the love in her heart, she said in her slight lisp, "Mrs. A, your feet might look like hell, but the rest of your body looks faaaaa-buuuuu-lous!"
So there you go. Out of the mouths of babes. My feet do look like hell. Painted toenails or not. But for now, I'll just keep painting.