Toenails

I adore Phoebe's wild imagination. Toys in our house do not serve their intended purpose for long. Mr. Potato Head's shoes have become a cup of grapefruit juice. A xylophone has become a pizza. Minnie Mouse ears has become a belt. A tied ribbon is her new stethoscope. And a hand-full of air can be, well, anything her creative mind decides.

So then, what has become of Phoebe's green Lego? Toenails. For the couch. Let me explain. A couple weeks ago I trimmed my fingernails while sitting at the couch and collected them in a neat little pile on the armrest. (Gross, I know, but I'm not a complete Neanderthal letting them scatter over the floor.) Anyhow, my little copycat tucked that whole scene away in her brain for today. Handing me her green Lego, Phoebe said in all seriousness, "Mommy, here you go. It's toenails, for the couch. You put them right here, okay?" She couldn't understand why I burst out laughing and asked her, "Why toenails?" Frowning, she re-instructed me, "No, no, no. They go right here on the couch." Sometimes it's better not to ask.