I don’t consider myself a high-maintenance woman (Gary may find this debatable), but one thing I am obsessively meticulous about is my nails. No, I don’t have 4-inch dragon claws with rhinestones and airbrushed designs, but I give myself a manicure once a week. After watching this ritual for a while, the girls started asking me to do their nails too, and we have had fun coming up with ideas for new designs, coloring each nail a different color, or trying stripes, polka dots, flowers, and anything else the steadiness of my hand with such tiny nails will allow.
This past weekend, we outdid ourselves, experimenting with glitter polish. The girls (and I) ended up with multicolored nails, at least one glitter nail on each hand, and sparkly tips on all the other fingers. Sunflower, who is 8, was especially proud of her nails, practically catapulting from her chair as soon as the last bit of polish was brushed on to show her daddy how they looked and await the appropriate level of ooh’s and ahhh’s.
On the drive back to Hickville after their time with us, Sunflower noticed one of her fingers had smudged pretty badly, and she was upset. She kept looking at her fingernail with a despairing frown. I asked her if she had any glitter nail polish at her grandparents’ house, and she said no, then looked at me with large, sad, “fix this” eyes.
So I told her I would bring the glitter nail polish to Bear’s first football game the next day. She smiled, content with this solution.
The next evening, Gary and I showed up at the football field, armed with cameras to capture Bear in his football glory and packing the essential pink glitter nail polish in my purse. Sunflower and I performed an emergency manicure fix on the sidelines of the football field, and she had fully functioning sparkly nails just in time for the beginning of the game.
Bear, for his part, did not have glittery fingernails, but he played his first game exceptionally well. I may be a bit biased, but I suspect he is the best player on his team. (He gets that from me…okay, I have to hand off that credit to Gary.) Bear is 10, so even though the players were decked out in full gear, pads, helmets, and mouth guards, and trying their damnest to look formidable and imposing, I secretly thought they were incredibly adorable. But I didn’t tell him that.
When Bear took a quick water break, I caught him at the cooler and asked him to give me his best mean football face. He broke into a huge smile and stuck his tongue out instead, his hair sticking up like Dennis the Menace from sweat-induced helmet head. It’s my new favorite picture of him.