I Think His Self Esteem is Okay. 

I Think His Self Esteem is Okay.

We had a very enlightening and hilarious moment tonight with Connor. Since birth, some of Connor's toes are webbed together. There is no real "extra" skin between them like what you'd typically imagine "webbed feet" look like-- his toes are just literally conjoined-- he can't spread them out at all, those that are stuck together. So we discovered this when he was about three weeks old. Don't ask me how we missed this for the first three weeks of his life; I think we were just so awed at the fact that we had a baby that we didn't bother to check the extremities for deformity. Or it could have been the fact that the screams coming from one end distracted us from the webbed toes at the other. In any case, we were pretty shocked when we discovered it and immediately flew to the pediatrician's office to find out when reconstructive surgery would commence. The pediatrician seemed pretty fascinated with it and even called his colleague in to see Connor's phalangical anomaly (how do you like that phrase? I made it up myself). He assured us that surgery was not necessary. Looking at my horror-stricken face, the pediatrician wisely decided to appeal to our already budding sense that our offspring was superior-- he suggested that maybe the webbed toes were an evolutionary leap. "You know, there's no reason for anyone to have five toes; we only use the big toe and the pinky toe for balance; maybe Connor's evolving more quickly than other people." We bought that hook, line and sinker.
As the years have passed since his birth, we've never pointed his toes out to him. Strange, given that we're the type of parents who discuss anything in detail-- Connor can give you the rundown on the cultural and hygienic debate that led him to be circumcised and his brother to be left intact. But for some reason, we would only discuss "the toes" outside of his presence. We're such goofballs.
So tonight, I thought I'd gently nudge him toward noticing-- no use, I figured, waiting for him to be 16 and considering a career as a foot model before making the realization that his feet are different. So Chris, Connor and I were lying in our bed, reading Connor a story before he went to his own bed, and I said, "Look at all of our feet in a line... all alike, right?" Connor looked at me as though HE felt that he needed to explain something to ME. He slowly said to me, "Mommy, my toes are stuck together. They don't look like yours." Very matter-of-fact. He added, "I'm very special." I almost fell of the bed, laughing. No use worrying about this kid.