Alex has toys that he says are "piece-able" - the ones that can pop apart and be put back together. He has even made a few piece-able that weren't originally intended for that. But this morning he informed me that "Mommy, my little toe is piece-able." At first I laughed it off, telling him that if it was piece-able there would be blood and toe guts everywhere (easily understandable to a 4-year old boy), but then he wouldn't let me look at his toe, wanted to keep it hidden under the blanket, and kept telling me "I just don't want to talk about it" (which usually means he's done something he knows he wasn't supposed to do).
Then it finally hit me - his toe's day of reckoning had come.
A week or so ago he was running through the house and really whacked his pinkie toe on the big metal tool box on the floor. After a lot of tears and a little blood, I realized that his toenail would probably be coming off at some point. And today's the day. It didn't bother him in the least; I'd tried to really explain what would happen and to point out that it has happened to me a couple times. So after it had hung on by a thread all day (that was the point he'd gotten it to this morning that he was hiding from me), he just ran in here and presented the toenail to me. So now we are keeping it to show Daddy when he gets home from work. Ick.
And I did clear the piece-able confusion earlier today, so he knows he did nothing wrong in pulling it loose. Thank goodness - I was feeling like I'd had one of those horrible parenting moments this morning that would give my adult son therapy for many years to come.
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