Fingers and Toes

Over and over again she wished that she could break the cyclical nature of the tempestuous temper tantrums that made up her solitary evenings. Her toes were the ones that always started it. They were absolutely incorrigible. They were fiercely independent. For example when the rest of her body was warm, her toes remained cold. When the rest of her body wanted to be still, her toes would balk at this notion, and move regardless of being asked numerous times to settle down.

Her fingers were the other rebels. They weren’t as independent as her toes, but they were most often trouble makers in their own right, and were great at giving a good sales pitch. They weren’t as whiney as her stomach – but they often got the best of her and had the last word. It was the fingers that would convince her to stay awake, until far past her bedtime.

“Can’t we just play a little longer? Please??” they beg.

Why didn’t they ever take no for an answer? Her eyes really wanted to know the answer. They were not allowed to sleep until the fingers were tired, and to her eyes – that just seemed a little too unfair. Her eyes wanted more say in matters but even this complaint often was left ignored.