Finally, after three years, ten months, and twenty-four days, Jay discovered that his toes should be washed. I walked into his room after bath on Tuesday night. He was sitting on his bed, whining and rubbing his feet together.
“There’s something wrong with my feet.”
I walked over and asked what was wrong. He pulled apart two toes, and said, “See, there’s something on my toes.” Rolls of dead skin.
From his earliest days, Jay would jerk away his feet and wail whenever his toes were touched. Hubby gives Jay most of his baths these days; I gave up washing between and under his toes months and months ago. I settled for firmly holding his ankles and quickly swiping a soapy towel across the bottom of his feet, hoping that just the fact that he’d stepped into the water would remove at least surface dirt from the toes. Swiping a towel across his feet was problematic as well, but I got away with it.
A couple of weeks ago, Jay came up with what he thought was a great idea. I could wash his legs, and he would wash his feet. Ok, I can work with that. So, here’s what he did when I gave him the soapy towel: he wrapped the towel around his feet and wiggled his toes. First one foot, and then the other. He gave the towel back to me. Of course, he was satisfied and proud.
So, Tuesday night, Jay sat on his bad and let me wipe away the loose dead skin. Since then, he has been willing to get his feet washed. In fact, he is insisting that we wash his feet. He had a bath last night, and then he asked this morning to have his toes washed again.
Hallelu. Better late than never.