Earlier today, I was moving Dad in his wheelchair from the breakfast table to the family room. Usually he is very cooperative and tries his best to shuffle his feet along was we go. Today was no exception, but he was having trouble making the corners.
Mom, watching closely, said, “Honey pick up your feet. Pick up your feet so you can move.”
“Okay, I will, I will,” Dad replied, but he didn’t pick them up, so we were temporarily stalled.
“Honey, pick up your feet,” Mom again asked.
“Okay, I will,” Dad repeated.
Now Mom was getting a little frustrated. “Just pick up your feet, you know how to do that.”
Dad, ever aiming to please, but now a little frustrated himself, responded, “Okay, I will. Where are they?”
Mom and I just stopped in our places and laughed. I don’t think Dad understood why we were laughing, but he smiled a bit himself, as I reached down with my hands and held his feet up enough to get us where we were going.