While doing laundry today, I noticed a pattern. “AHA!” I declared.
Mike looked at me, waiting for an explanation.
“Remember when I was pregnant and kept saying that ‘this kid’s heels feel sharp enough to pop right through me?’”
“Barely,” he said.
“And remember,” I continued, unfazed, “when you hugged me and mused that I might be exaggerating just a tad?”
“I don’t recall saying that,” he said.
“Well, you might not have said it aloud, but your expression said it all.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“I’d like to present Exhibit A.” I flung my arm towards this:
He looked at the socks, smiled, and nodded.
“That is all. Now I must go and get my sharp-heeled kid some new socks.”