What do you call two banana peels?...


On Monday, July 11, we started off on a trip to Utah for a family reunion, actually two family reunions. Both of which were scheduled to overlap in Logan, in the beautiful Cache Valley.
It was a great day for a drive. It was completely overcast, and it was early, so we didn’t have any glaring sun to contend with, and we got occasional light sprinkles that kept the heat down. We drove through Las Vegas [actually we bypassed Sin City by turning off at Boulder City and drove along the Lake Mead shoreline to Moapa Valley and caught I15 near Overton—a very pretty drive, though it cost $10 just to drive through the “recreation area” and it probably added about 20 minutes to the trip], stopped for lunch in Saint George, and landed in Salt Lake just before dark.  
During the entire drive Ethan complained that he was hot, so he took off his t-shirt, but then immediately felt cold so he wrapped himself up in his large silky blanket, and surrounded himself with pillows. Yeah, it’s a peculiar thing to do, but that’s my boy.
When we got to the hotel, we unpacked, and settled down to get some rest. As we knelt around the kid’s bed for prayer I was struck with an awful smell. Quizzically I glanced around. Morgan noticed and knew immediately what I was thinking.
‘It’s his feet. They STINK!’ she replied.
‘Are you kidding me?’
‘NO! They’re awful. He keeps his socks on all day.’
My wife chimed in, ‘He hates having his feet cold, so he keeps his socks on all day. I have to hide his socks or he runs out before I do laundry again.’
‘Oh my gosh, that’s awful.’ No, not the bit about laundry, the smell, it was awful.
Evie remarked, ‘But he has the softest feet in the world!’
We bowed our heads and tried again to pray, but I just couldn’t do it.
We hadn’t planned on it, but necessity had determined that we fight this battle, and we had to fight it right now.
‘Okay,’ I announced, ‘take off our socks.’
Faster then your eyes could water from the smell of his feet, the fight was on. Crying ensued. The socks came off. Shivering immediately followed this as if he were in the last legs of the Willie and Martin Handcart Company, crossing the icy Platte River in late November.
It became quite clear, quite quickly, that neither bare feet, or a new pair of socks would not do the trick. Those feet needed washed.
Off we went into the bathroom, in what appeared to be a death march from Bataan.  Running the water to a nice temperature, I lathered his feet up with soap and rubbed away, getting in between his toes, and up his ankles. 
Evie was right; he has the softest feet in the world. 
Too bad they stink like a skunk that climbed out of the butt of another skunk! Man, they reeked.
Rinsed, lathered, rinsed, lathered and rinsed again. I think we got it.
Yeah, I smelled them; up close and personal! They were clean and odorless.
Now for the negotiating. It was obvious he could not wear socks all day, a compromise had to be reached.
Think! Think! Think!
I got!
‘Hey buddy,’ I said, ‘we can’t wear socks all day . . .’
‘But I’ll freeze . . .’
‘Yes, but it is bad for your feet. They’ll stink. How about when we are at home we wear slippers? We can buy you a nice pair of slippers that you can wear just around the house.’
‘Like Carl in Up?’
‘Yes, or like Mr. Wilson in Dennis the Menace,’ Evie said.
‘How would that be? Would that be okay?’
Ethan smiled, ‘Perfect!’
The next time we were at Wal-mart we picked up a pair of slippers, with his approval. Of course when he doesn't have them on he keeps them right next to his bed, like Carl.
So far the tactic seems to be working, no socks on his feet while in the house. And more importantly no smelly feet! 
. . . By the way, what do you call two banana peels?




 



A pair of slip-ers!

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