My dreams of a pedicure flew out the window as my mother-in-law ripped the nail from my big toe.
It's okay. She's a professional, and I asked her to do it.
What I didn't ask for was the slight shove my little shark-lover gave his bed while I was standing on the other side of it. I had no idea my three-year-old had the strength to move his cargo bed, much less to move it hard enough to dislodge my toenail. I'll know better next time.
While I am sad about the loss of my big toenail, I am most mournful for the loss of the time I would have spent in the kicky new cowgirl boots I got for Christmas.
For the record, this brings our yearly tally for unscheduled doctor's office/urgent care visits to four. And we're barely a week in.