Cut my fingernails!

Last Friday night the little toddler man got up eight times. EIGHT. Of course, this is the night before his mama's longest run ahead of her two-week taper before a May 6 half marathon.

But the little guy wasn't sick, thank goodness. He was, however, VERY upset about his fingernails. My husband tried to figure out what in the heck was up. I'd just clipped them a couple days prior. We both felt along the edges of his nails to see if they felt ragged anywhere. Finally, after the eighth wakeup, I gave him a cup of water, he sipped and he was off to bed.

My 11-mile run at 5:15 that morning was brutal. But oh well. I got it done. Daddy took him to his first Cubs game and I napped with Baby C. Heaven all around.

So Saturday night... yes, two more wakeups. About fingernails! What the heck? I truly can't remember what I did to soothe him. The next night, as I put him to bed, he started howling about them again. "Cut it, mommy!" he cried, pointing to one of his fingernails. There was nothing wrong with it. I trimmed all his nails anyway, and got out the fingernail file, which quieted him except for "what's that, Mommy?" His nails by this point are in much, much better shape than his mama's sad nails, believe me.

Tonight? "Cut my fingernail, mommy!" There's nothing to trim. His nails are short.

My husband reminds me that my now 19-year-old was also very fixated on his nails as a kid and trimmed them a lot once he was old enough to use nail clippers.

I googled to see if I could find anything about toddlers and fingernails, but my search only turned up advice pieces on what to do if your kid bites his fingernails. Hmm. I couldn't find anything anywhere that recommended I should teach him a bad habit to break another one.

So, my fingernail mystery continues.