Tiger has very big feet.
I have been saying this ever since she was born. Daddy Bear refused to believe me and, while she was Very Tiny and in five-zero gro-suits that swum on her miniscule frame, the truth about her enormous plates of meat COULD be ignored, if one was determined to do so.
But I knew it. My baby was a bigfoot.
Just like her mummy.
I have always had big feet too. I squeeze into a size nine now, mostly because nine and a halfs are rare as hen's teeth, and I refuse to go into the Truly Massive territory of a sixe ten.
Tiger hasn't inherited much at all from me, appearance-wise, apart from a dimple, big eyes and a small double chin.
And the feet.
Tiger is now wearing size zero clothes. We tried a pair of size four boots on her at Cotton On Baby. They were too small.
She is now in socks designed for a two year old. She is ten months old.
Daddy Bear has finally had to acknowledge it: Tiger is a large-footed lady.
And by good gosh I adore those feet. Like the "strawberry" birthmark on her head, they make my little girl quirky. If it wasn't for these tiny "imperfections" (which I prefer to think of as "superpowers"), Tiger would be just too conventionally cute, with her chubby, rosy cheeks, rosebud mouth and enormous blue eyes.
Plus, her feet are something she got from me. Proof she came from me. I like that.
And also, you should see them. Her beautiful big feet are stroke-able, kissable, nuzzle-able. Not actually certain any of those are actual words, but I know this one is:
Tiger's big feet are just LOVELY.
~ Love, Miss Cackle x
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