Briar spied a small bottle of nail polish the other day. Just beneath the cap was a rhinestone. It was love at first sight and, as the name of the color was “Pink Promise,” when she asked, blue eyes wide with hope, if I would paint her nails, I agreed. We have a long history of polish remorse. Briar generally regrets the painting and has a visceral need to have the offending artificial color erased immediately, so desperate to remove it she usually wipes her hands on the nearest thing before I can get to the remover.
I set about painting her nails, no easy feat (hahaha) with the ampleness of my belly, but we made it through. She has spent the last 24 hours calling out to strangers and friends alike, “Hey, have you seen my twinkly, sparkly princess finger nails? I got my toes like it too! Wanna see?”
I send out a special thanks to all the people of our fine city who have marveled at her pink promise twinkleocity.