Oh how cute they are. The tiny chubby toes, the beautiful smooth skin, the thickness of them. I love my children’s baby feet. They are by far, my favorite body part. Perfect and pink. R, who is still two, has the cutest feet of them all. They are just perfect. Her 10 little piggy toes. I love to eat them up and make her squeal with delight. I shower them with kisses and in return I have gotten some on my feet as well. I quickly responded, “Oh no yucky! Don’t kiss mommy’s feet.”
Mine are grown up feet and not cute anymore. They get pedicures to look presentable. They have walked many miles. The heels are worn from chasing children barefoot during the summer. Yet, how sweet is it that at two there is not a moment’s hesitation in returning a beloved kiss to mommy’s foot? You have to marvel at that innocence.
My twins are now 7. The other day, I looked at their bare feet. They were not kissable looking. They were regular people feet, larger and thin. They looked like they’ve been walking for a while now. I felt a genuine sadness about this. My first babies. They are moving forward each day, marching on. Further away from me. With each step, getting closer to standing on their own two feet. Waiting for another period of their lives to begin when someone will want to kiss their feet again.
People say to enjoy the last one, the baby. Cherish each moment. Well, I wonder at what age the feet kisses will stop? Is it coming soon? 3 or 4? Because I didn’t notice the last time. Better run and catch her while I can for a few more…