So the middle child got fake fingernails today. They were a dollar at Target, and she spent her hard-earned money. They were lovely - purple and blue with sparkles on them. And really long. She and I spent some quality time together, putting on the fingernails and discussing the merits of long fingernails and the drawbacks.
She took her gaudy, witch-ish fingernails upstairs to show her brothers. Bless their hearts - they could care less about fake fingernails - but they ooh-ed and aah-ed over them the best they could before getting back to their Star Wars thing they were doing.
Then it was dinner time. She struggled to eat with her fake fingernails. They kept falling off. And, because my sons are going to be great husbands, they offered to help her put them back on. And on. And on. I'm not kidding, each one fell off at least twelve times, and each time, the oldest boy dutifully and without complaining helped her to put them back on. And he discussed the fingernails with her. Really, he listened while she talked about them, but he did what she needed him to do. Practicing for man-hood.
His wife will be so grateful to her one day.