Fromage Du Pied

One night months ago Caleb noticed that little bits of fluff from his socks had collected between his toes. “What’s that?”

“Toe cheese.”


This might have been a mistake. It wasn’t really toe cheese in the improper foot care sense. It is only a matter of time before we have some embarrassing public announcement from Caleb about his prolific toe cheese. All sins of parenting incur punishment, believe me.

So now every night when we put on pajamas Caleb wants to hunt for toe cheese. He squats down in his tighty-whiteys and pulls his socks off by the toes, stretching them to three times their previous length. Then he inspects the spaces between his toes in very methodical fashion. He starts with the big toe and its second-in-command, seizing each and pulling them wide apart. When he finds some lint (lint, I tell you) he gasps excitedly and says “Toe cheese!” He wipes it out with his finger and moves on to the next space. “Toe cheese!” Wipe, then pull apart the next pair. “Oh, no toe cheese.” “Haah, toe cheese!”

“Hey man, do you ever notice that your toe cheese is the same color as your socks?”

“Yeah, it’s blue! Blue toe cheese!”


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