Peter’s latest shtick is to proclaim that you’re a “bad guy.” He then takes a plasticware knife from the kids’ drawer of utensils and pretends to fend you off with it. He slashes it left and right and makes sword-clinking noises. Fun stuff.
Except lately when he plays this game, he’s been pointing to my feet. “Big toes,” it sounded like he was saying. “Big toes, big toes, BIG TOES!” He said this in front of company yesterday, and we spent time trying to guess what he meant. “You wanna cut off my toes?” “NOOOOO!” “You want to stand on my feet?” “No, big toes! Right dere. DERE! DERE!” “Are my toes scary because I’m the bad guy?” “You big toes!” We gave up.
This morning we figured it out, because he again pointed to my feet, but was clearer what he wanted. “Daddy… you bad guy. You got big toes. Bumm, bummm, bummmm, bummm!” and he began stomping his feet in exaggerated fee, fie, foe, fum style while making his best mean face. Aha! Of course! Every bad guy stomps his feet as he takes big steps to try and catch the hero. I bent in a half-crouch, made my own mean face, and said “I’m the bad guy, I’m comin’ to get you!” and began stomping toward him. His face lit up like a Christmas tree: yes! This was what he had wanted for a few days. Ten minutes of alternating who was the foot-stomping bad guy and who was the sword-clinking hero ensued.