This past weekend, we decided it was once again time to clip the boy's toenails. One might not think this would be such an ordeal, but one would be wrong. It's quite possible that he hates getting his nails clipped more than he hates it when we wipe his nose. His reaction is akin to how I imagine I'd react if someone 4 times my size pinned me down and threatened to cut off my limbs.

I should clarify, at no point did we threaten to cut off his limbs. In fact, we couldn't be any nicer about it. He sat in his mom's lap with a toy, and she quickly began to get to work. I think she got one nail clipped before the squirming and screaming started, and it only got worse from there. At her request, I stepped in to attempt to distract the boy. It started off nice, as I held him and tried to talk and sing to him.

After that didn't work, I had to use my size advantage. I held his two arms with my hands, and trapped his free leg between my knees. To passers-by, it probably would have appeared as though we were performing some 18th century surgery, back when they used whiskey as anesthesia. Not that we gave the boy whiskey, though now that I mention it, I bet it would have helped. Frankly, we would have been a little bit more shocked than them to see someone passing by our bathroom, and we probably would have stopped to ask them what they're doing in our house.

Anyway, a few minutes later, the wife finished his toes, and I could release my vise-like grip on his limbs. We hugged him and tried to explain that we understand he doesn't like getting his nails clipped, but that it has to be done.

He wasn't really paying attention though, as he was too busy picking up the baby nail clippers and pretending to clip his own toenails. Apparently, it's OK when done on his terms.