L Is For Limber. It Also Is For Liniment.

Every Tuesday night is kids' night/arts and crafts project night at our area Chic-Fil-A. We try to make sure Rachel makes it every week. She gets to hang with her peeps and burn off energy on the indoor playground. Rebecca and I get to talk for a while and try to scarf down soft-serve cones before Rachel spots them (we rarely succeed.)

Last night, despite temperatures that had already plunged below freezing, our part polar bear/part penguin daughter took off her shoes and socks at the indoor playground and at some point, ran out to our table to grab a few waffle fries and some juice.

All of a sudden, an unmistakable fragrance wafted up to my nostrils. Yup, definitely foot smell. Rachel was informed a bath would be her agenda. She agreed that would be no problem.

As Rebecca and I glanced at each other with a "whoo, hope no one else can smell that!" look, Rachel lifted her foot up to her nose to give a close up whiff. And then like a junkie needing more hits, she brought her foot up to her nose a couple more times. As Rebecca and I marveled that Rachel hadn't fainted yet, we also mentoned the remarkable dexterity of children.

Apparently, Rachel decided "you ain't seen nothing yet!" She lifted the leg past her nose and then placed it flat on the middle of the top of her head. Again, she repeated the action for added emphasis. And again. A 4-year-old boy from a nearby table came up and started trying to imitate her. By then, my eyes had bugged out like Harpo Marx. My wife and I looked at each other wide-eyed and shook our heads in disbelief.

Rachel returned to the indoor playground.

Now when I was younger, I could sit cross-legged with each foot atop the opposite hip, flip up onto my knees and walk across a room on my knees while still in the cross-legged position. You could just hear women say, "Oooh, who is THAT guy?"

Key phrase in the last paragraph: "when I was younger." With Rachel back on the indoor playground, I lifted my left foot from under the table and pressed the sock against my nose and looked at my wife for affirmation. "You're probably gonna feel that tomorrow," she said, with a mixture of "I'm impressed" and "Don't hurt yourself, honey!"

I put my foot back on the floor, slipped it into a loafer, stood up and started taking our trash to the receptacle. My hip asked, "What was that?" I looked back at my wife, smiled and replied, "Tomorrow? How about now?"