"I'll smell your feet if you stop swinging."

I had to make a deal. I couldn't risk getting kicked in the face. He kept saying that his feet smelled so good, that I had to smell them, but then he'd grab hold of the two bucket seats and start swinging again. I knew that if I attempted to take a whiff while he was in motion I could end up with a toe in the eye. Or worse. I didn't want to take that chance. It was all about timing - and he certainly was trying to make it easy for me by lifting his legs and extending his feet towards me - but one small miscalculation and Bam! I'd be hurting. So I did what any prudent (cautious? wary? scared?) adult would do, I proposed a compromise that was pleasing to us both. He thought about it for a moment, then said, "Oh, okay," and let go of the arm rests while bringing a foot up to my face. I grabbed the chubby foot, took a nice big sniff, then released it. He waited expectantly for my appraisal. I put my finger up to my mouth in a pensive gesture, then simply said, "Yep, not bad." He seemed quite pleased with that assessment and happily began swinging again. I'm sure I could have successfully managed the tricky maneuver but thought it might be too odd of an explanation had things gone awry. It's okay, call me a chicken.