Just By Looking

Naomi was wandering around our cold house without any socks or slippers. My foot empathy factor was just going berserk. I kept asking over, and over: don't you want some socks or something? She'd decline. I'd grow more insistent.

Finally, I flung some clean socks at her head without further instructions. She put them on and shot me a look.

Me: So that's the 'Mom, you've-gone-crazy-with-this-preoccupation-with-my-feet' look?
Naomi: No.
Me: No?
Naomi: That was the "I-could-see-perfectly-well-those-socks-were-headed-my-way-thirty minutes-ago. You-could-just-walk-them-over-to-me, you know. No-need-to-toss-them-at-my-face' look.
Me: That's a lot to say in a look.


Naomi: It is. But I'm pretty good at saying what I mean just by looking.