Eighty percent of the work week, I wear knee-high nylons to accompany my footwear. (The other 20 percent of the time is when we get to wear jeans on Friday and thus can wear socks with sneakers.)
Jacob never seems to know what to call these nylons. No, I take that back -- he calls them a variety of names.
For example, "those gross brown things." As in, "eww, take those gross brown things off of the couch - slash - out of my face." (I have no idea why he might have a problem with me leaving them on the couch or floor or anywhere besides my feet or the laundry hamper.)
My latest favorite moniker is "leeches." Over the weekend we did laundry, and Jacob helped put away his clothes. I meandered into the bedroom as he was doing so.
"You have too many leeches!" he accused.
"Leeches?" I queried.
"You had like 80 of them stuck to your pajamas, sucking the soul out of them."
Well, then. Apparently I have soul-sucking hosiery. Who knew?
Haha. Davis used to call mine "fake skin" when he was little.
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