Thursday, March 8, 2012

My kids' feet are going to make me millions.

Both of them have the same foot skin.

It is the most puzzling substance I've ever encountered. I've complained before about the difficulty of getting pants on the boy, but the girl is no different. Their feet are the most skid resistant material known to man. I break a sweat trying to get socks on them. If they're hot? Forget it. Nothing is going on or past the feet until they've cooled off.

At this point I have to grab a foot and guide it through the pant leg without allowing it to make contact with any fabric in order to succeed in dressing my children. I have to scrunch up socks and guide them on like a woman puts on pantyhose. It's ridiculous.

I'm pretty sure Payne was first exposed to the phrase "sonsofbitches" while I was holding his full weight above the floor by the waistband of his jeans (at the time wrapped around his thighs), as his feet refused to slide past denim to escape out of the leg holes. His incredigrip foot skin held him up in the air.

Obviously I'm dealing with some sort of freak genetic combination that Dan and I uniquely and consistently make when reproducing. I feel this means we have a biological patent, yes? So here's the plan; I hire someone to clone the foot skin and then I sell it as a pad for the gloves of NFL recievers.

Hell, it could end up under rugs, on a space shuttle, as a little pad under my stupid plastic cutting board that always slides on my kitchen counters...

Wait. Where are you backing slowly away to? I'm just getting started.

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