Nail Polish

Today I am grateful for nail polish.  It’s getting to be that time of year again, when the toes need a little extra bling.  Although I usually keep some color on the piggies year-round now that I’m in the pool five times a week, it’s not always in the best of shape.  Time to shape-up.

I had boys so I missed the dolly, ruffle-panties, pretty-dress, phase women with little girls get to go through.  They don’t remember, thank God, but sometimes I would put a cute bonnet on one of my guys when we were shopping, just to see what they’d look like.  They’d yank it off like it was on fire and start eating it.  They didn’t do that with boys hats and I swear they were too young to know the difference.

When my oldest granddaughter was two and left in my custody, I got out the nail polish.  That little brown girl, with the fuzzy hair, deep dimples and amazing use of language vibrated with excitement.  I set her on the counter in my bathroom and let her pick a color.  Pink, of course!  Her mom hates pink.  She loves it.  I explained that you need to not let your toes or fingers touch anything for a long time if you want the polish to stay pretty.  “Okay, Grandma.”  One toe at a time, I swiped on the neon pink.  She’d say, “Thank you, Grandma,” with every swipe of the brush.  Ten toes, ten “Thank you, Grandma’s.”  Ten fingers, ten “Thank you, Grandma’s.”  And a few extra just because.  Then she sat still, on the counter for twenty minutes with her fingers and toes splayed like a cat you’re trying to get in a bath.  All the while she blew on her fingers, or near them anyway.  It was a perfect grandma-first granddaughter moment.

Nail polish has come a long way.  Now there are design kits.  My youngest granddaughter is turning into quite the artist.  While her parents are spending time at the hospital with Pop-pop and Nana, they have a wonderful, dear family friend looking after them.  Big Sissy (she’s not big, but we call Izzy sissy, too, so. . .) is amazing with our grandkids.  The other day she played, “Cooking with Izzy” and had Isabella making breakfast, with a chef’s hat and everything.  Last night Big Sissy posted a picture of her newly painted-by-Izzy fingernails.  They are great, with each one different. 

So today I’m grateful for nail polish. . .and the creativity of my granddaughter Izzy. . .and the spirit and patience of her “extra” grandma, Big Sissy.  She understands what is necessary to occupy kids when their parents are sitting watch over Pop-pop at the hospital. I can’t wait to see what they come up with next.  I hope it’s on my toes!