on a personal note

earlier this week, my granddaughter showed me her freshly polished fingernails.  i asked if her mommy had painted her nails, and she said, “no, daddy did it.”

i assumed she had misunderstood.  i could not conceive any scenario where my son (the coach…a brute, 6’3″ tall and 250 lbs…played defensive end in college) might have decorated his daughter’s fingernails.

the next day, my daughter-in-law (who is eight months pregnant) told me that she had implored my son to paint her toenails (as she had absolutely no chance of seeing them, much less reaching them).  apparently, while he was at it, he decided to glamorize both the women in his life and did, in fact, put red polish on my granddaughter’s fingernails.

his wife was grateful, his daughter was delighted and i was dumbfounded.  and slightly proud.  my son had assumed the posture of a servant in the most difficult and dangerous place possible–his own home.

that boy is well-raised.

 

 

 

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