I love her feet. Her imperfect little, pudgy feet. I have loved them since they were itty bitty porcelain feet so very fragile. And now, they are strong. So strong she can run over gravel without even a wince. I love her always quasi-painted toes that are a reminder of our mommy daughter time. I love how she giggles endlessly when I tickle her feet. I love that she loves to be barefoot and feel every blade of grass, every mud puddle, every grain of sand. I love that I can kiss them whenever I want to and they are always so soft. I love her feet.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Her feet.
I love her feet. Her imperfect little, pudgy feet. I have loved them since they were itty bitty porcelain feet so very fragile. And now, they are strong. So strong she can run over gravel without even a wince. I love her always quasi-painted toes that are a reminder of our mommy daughter time. I love how she giggles endlessly when I tickle her feet. I love that she loves to be barefoot and feel every blade of grass, every mud puddle, every grain of sand. I love that I can kiss them whenever I want to and they are always so soft. I love her feet.
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