Here’s another confession. So, the other day I’m cutting our son’s nails. Yeah. If you have done this with a 1-year-old, you probably know what a wonderful chore it is, huh? So, I’m trying to get through the wiggling and squirming and trying my best to stay upbeat about the whole process while holding my son’s hand so tight his circulation was probably getting low. “It’s ok honey.. Mommy is just going to get a few more fingers and then we will be done.” clip. And then… he let out a giant wail. “What?” I look down and I have accidentally caught his pinky finger as I was clipping the nail beside it, and it is dripping blood. That’s right. His FINGER got clipped. Oh boy. That is not what I meant to do. I immediately rush to get a cloth and my oh-so-helpful and thoughtful and caring husband says, “You know. He seems to hate getting his nails clipped the last couple of times. Do you think we should try using a nail file?”
I immediately flash him daggers via my eye balls and say, “That is only for babies. His nails are too hard for that now. I’m doing the best that I can. You are absolutely welcome to try the files if you want to” (slyly thinking in my head that I will get sweet revenge when his unrequested advice doesn’t work).
I hand him the child and he comes back with the nail file and sits CM on his lap. I agreed to help hold CM’s other hand, so he won’t try to rip the file out of Daddy’s hands, but all the while I am just waiting for this to fail. And…
He actually giggled the whole time because it felt like the nail file was tickling his fingers, and the job got done just as effectively (umm…ok. Maybe even more effectively considering no blood was drawn in his approach).
So, I am just saying. Maybe… sometimes… I should listen to my husband. *But if you tell him I said so, we will no longer be friends.;-)