We went up to my brother’s again the week after The Banshee and I completed this groundbreaking work of art.
As we arrived, with greeting and hugs all around, Baby Banshee — all of 2 1/2 — stood off to the side, silently watching me with wide eyes. She was smiling, but she was quiet, a little more shy than usual. She looked at my feet. Then at my face. At my feet, at my face. Then she seemed to reach some moment of inner resolve because she suddenly marched up to me, pointed at my feet, and demanded, “Tee Tee, do you still have that face on your foot?”
Ohhh. I get it now.
I am equal parts thrilled and horrified at the thought that Tee Tee might still have a picture on her foot. I don’t know what to do. I want to know, but, on the other hand, I don’t want to know. I am torn. If I ask, then I’ll know and that might be bad. If I don’t ask, then I won’t know and that might be worse. Do I ask? Do I not ask? Ask? Not ask? Okay. I can’t stand it. I NEED to know.
“Oh! Sweetie, no, not anymore. It washed off in the shower.”
“Reawwy?” Her face fell a bit.
“Yeah. But you know what? It did take a couple of days for it to fade all the way.”
“Reawwy?” She brightened.
“Yep. Really.”
She just smiled her quiet little smile and toddled off to find a game for us to play.
Kids are amazing. Their memories!!
I love that she remembered! You broke it to her very kindly. (What kind of shoes were you wearing? Do you think she was worried your shoes were putting the toe-face in the dark?)
sheila — I know. I guess the foot face made an impression.
Kate P — I was wearing my same ol’ Converse. Maybe she WAS worried I was suffocating it or something. Hahahaha.