The Agony of The Feet!

About a month ago, I was driving Andy and Alex to the library when Andy said, "Mommy, can you put your hand back here?"  Thinking he was going to hand me a piece of garbage or a wayward fruit snack, I reached back to him and had my hand greeted by a bare little foot.  Andy burst out laughing, so proud of himself for thinking of taking off his shoes and socks and tricking me into touching his stinky foot.  Playing along, I gasped and cried out, "Andy, is that your foot?"  Letting go of his foot, I slowly brought my hand back and stared at it with a mixture of disgust and despair.  "Ewwww.  Now my hand smells like a foot!"

And so this is the new thing we do.  Granted, this is not the safest game to play while driving, but it is Andy's favorite, and many car rides will consist of me getting "tricked" into touching his foot and then groaning Andy's favorite "line."  My hand smells like a foot.  This makes Andy laugh every time, and I have to agree, it's pretty hilarious.

Even while he sleeps,
his feet exude stink.

Alex, who is increasingly joining in on the fun, has begun playing the foot game, and today, after I had Andy's foot in my hand, I heard Alex yelp "Mama!"  I glanced backwards to see Alex wagging his foot at me, grinning merrily.  And so I touched Alex's foot, my gloved hand now saturated with the scent of not one but two smelly feet.  Andy laughed so hard he couldn't catch his breath, Alex giggled happily, and I- well, I almost ran off the road and into a tree.  Really, I need to pay just the tiniest bit more attention to my driving these days.

At home, it is our ongoing joke about how bad Andy's feet stink.  Alex has also begun to revel in the fun and now likes to stick one of his feet in my general direction and call out,  "Whew!"  Whew, that's quite the aroma!  Whew!

And if I had a dollar for every time Andy begged,  "Now smell my other foot!" or  "Now smell Alex's feet!" then I would have many, many dollars.

Which brings me to the question that's been plaguing me as the footsiness of our household gets more and more out of control:  If I had daughters instead of sons, would our play be more well-mannered and civil? Would I be more conscientious of trying to raise a refined young lady?  Or would I be just as gross and crude with my kids regardless of gender?

And, would my daughter even think a smelly foot was funny in the first place??

Feet in red socks smell the
worst.

Of course, I clearly do, and I'm a lady.  Well, not exactly a lady in the most polite and well-bred meaning of the word, but I don't exactly give off that raised-in-a-barn vibe either.  At least not most days.  So, what kind of humor would my daughter have regarding all of this stinky foot nonsense?  Is it fair to assume that kids are kids and find the same sorts of things funny or would a daughter be wired to be just a little more revolted by the thought of her own foot giving off a noxious, green-gas type odor?

I have no idea.

I do try to instill a small amount of properness into Andy, though, as not to project a completely vulgar view of our family.  We are not boobs who spend ALL of our time in hysterics over foot stench.  And Andy is aware that certain kinds of jokes and actions are private and appropriate only at home.  For instance, coming out of the bathroom at home holding his underwear and pants clasped to his chest so that I can help him get redressed- totally fine.  Coming out of the bathroom half-naked at Potbelly's and walking around the dining area holding his own underwear and jeans - well, not so much.

Aside from our silliness, sometimes I do wonder what a daughter would be like.  My boys are so playful and fun-loving and goofy.  I call them my "balloonatics," by which I mean a lunatic who likes balloons.  I can only assume my little girl would be a nutcase as well.  Except in pig-tails.  Well, except without the pig-tails, because I don't do hair.  Or nails.