What she said, and then, a story.

Mommy, your toes are big like napkins.

I'm not exactly sure how to take that. I'm sure she's used my toes as napkins a time or two, as she tends to use whatever is in a five foot radius when the need arises, and that is rarely ever an actual napkin. I'm thinking my toes wouldn't make the best napkins in the world, but certainly they are better than some things one might use as such. Like a knife. Or a gravel road.

Beyond that, my toes aren't particularly big. They are long. They come in handy quite often. Andrew is infinitely impressed by the chores I can accomplish with the help of my toes. I think somewhere deep inside he married me because he knows if we all lose our hands, we'll still survive, thanks to my great toe dexterity.

But, if we're just dissecting what she actually said, I think my toes are about the size of a napkin that a mouse might use.

And while I'm on the subject of pests...did I ever mention I think I married Andrew for the then unknown innate ability of mine to find a man who can protect his offspring by catching flies with immediately accurate precision? I'm pretty sure I sniffed him out for just that reason, and I have grown to appreciate it as one of his many marketable skills. If we was on the market. Which he's not. But I'm just saying. Ladies, I have a good fly catcher here. Takes care of the kids real nice, too.

And. One day a few years ago, when we arrived home from a trip over Christmas, we discovered a mouse had been enjoying the holiday feast that was our entire pantry. There was food everywhere. Holes in everything. So much so, we were sure this was not a mouse, but a whole entire mouse family with little mouse kids and grandparents and Sammy from next door who wanted seconds.

Alas, a mouse was so audacious to scurry right across the kitchen floor in front of us, under the refrigerator to where there is presumably a nice little mouse sized hole to the outside world. So what did my fly catching, rodent repelling husband do?

He waited.

With a cup.

And the mouse came back.

And he caught it.

Now, I don't know how familiar you are with the speed at which a mouse can travel by foot, but imagine trying to catch a fly with your bare hand as it buzzes by you. I like that example, because I'm sure the average reader can relate AND, he can do that, too. I happen to think both are quite impressive. In that Me - Cassidy, I pick things up with my toes, You - Andrew, you catch bugs, We make good, strong family for many, many years, kind of way.

So, with only a small error in accuracy, he had the mouse. It was under a cup, and said error of accuracy involved the mouse's tail, which was not in the cup. Eww.

I should also mention here that Me - Cassidy, was standing in a chair. My toes are good, but not mouse-catching good. And, I was squealing. So was the mouse. Squealing.

With the quick flip of a wrist or two, or something like that anyway, he had a magazine under the cup, and was hiking out in the woods that back up to our house to displace the mouse in a more mouse friendly environment, with trees, and water, and little mouse friends...presumably his aforementioned little mouse family, far, far away from our feast of a pantry.

We cleaned up the pantry, and set a trap.

Two days later, we had a catch.

It was a mouse. With a broken tail.

So you see folks, my big, huge toes are not needed for use by mice for wiping their mouths, and therefore, my daughter can use them when necessary. And my husband, well, like I said, he can catch just about anything, and that's why he caught me and my awesomely useful napkin-sized toes.