Shiny, Pretty Things

I probably should have used this post title for the previous post, about the gorgeous Mardi Gras beads we got in the mail.  And gauging from this first photo, I will say with much certainty that Sammi's feet are much like her mommy's...definitely not shiny, pretty things.  And yes, Miss Samantha's toenails are a bit too long, but she freaks if I try to clip them (fine with me doing her fingernails, and fine with Daddy doing her toes though!), and it's not until they start to curl slightly and dig into the soft flesh of her toes that we begin to realize the dire need to force her hand.  Uh, foot. 

I first painted Samantha's toenails when she was about 3 1/2.  Her poor little nails were so brittle, something I think is often found in people with Down syndrome, that I was afraid to do it before then.  They seem to have gotten a bit better as she's gotten older, and, oddly enough, her fingernails never had any issues.  She was resistant to the idea at first, but once they were done, loved the results and couldn't wait to show everyone.  "Look!  Toenails!!"  This may seem random, or it may be related, but Samantha doesn't like to have temporary tattoos or stickers on her.  I think any change to her body scares her a bit (boo boos are a taboo subject), and while I have never tried it, I'm fairly certain that carnival face-painting would go down very badly.  I'm really hoping she's open to the idea of getting her ears pierced when she's a bit older, but I'll leave that up to her. 

Samantha has selected Wet and Wild #207.  An excellent vintage. 

For those of you without the aid of a compact mirror and for those of you who do not have a natural inclination to read backwards, Sammi's and my shirts read, "I have a dream that one day we will be judged by the content of our character, not by the count of our chromosomes."  Wore those shirts all day, but seen only by the other patrons of IHOP at 7am, and who are we to compete with all-you-can-eat pancakes and those all-important first cups of coffee?  Just wearing them made us feel good, though, even if our message was not spread this time.

A side note here...Samantha is getting really good at brushing her teeth!  We have a battery-op toothbrush that she's even better with, but she doesn't always prefer to use it.  I just can't, for the life of me, figure out how to teach her to spit.  Please, please, I'm begging you, if any of you have any helpful hints, I'd welcome them with open arms!!  I am using a flouride children's toothpaste, although only a teeny, tiny bit on the brush, and she still insists on swallowing before leaning forward to pretend to spit.  "Pah!" she says.  "Look, Mommy, I did it!!"  Uh, okay, yeah, great job.  Not knowing how to spit on command never stopped her from expelling unwanted vegetables from her mouth at suppertime, though.  *sigh* 

And, now, may I present, the shiny pretty things!  :-)  I am a firm believer that pretty much all feet look good with a dab of pink paint, even when poorly applied.