Tuesday, September 9, 2008

It wasn't me

My daughter has recently discovered nature's perfect design in making a finger the precise shape and length for which to probe a nostril. I can only imagine how miraculous this discovery must be to an almost two-year-old brain, and therefore I don't really want to kill her joy by stopping her. Plus, I know that the minute I tell her not to do it, nosepicking will become exponentially more interesting. So I let her spelunk to her heart's content and hope that she will eventually outgrow it. (Not that I have.) That's not the problem. Here's the problem. 

When she does produce a nose nugget, she exclaims, "I have a booger mama!" and hands it to me. At home, I can just grab a kleenex and remove the offending item. But in the car, I'm up booger creek, so to speak. (Yes, I realize I could plan ahead and put kleenex in the car but I am SO not that organized and I'd probably use it all cleaning up spilled coffee before I needed it for a booger anyways.) What I usually do is just reach back and pluck it from her tiny little finger, then put down my window and do the old roll-and-flick. But see, when people see me doing this, THEY THINK IT'S MY BOOGER! I have seen the telltale dirty looks and shaking heads. But what else can I do? I can't do what my husband does with his own boogers, which is put them on his socks, because I usually don't wear any. Plus I think that's gross. So I guess I'll just continue to go around town looking like a mad booger picker. Talk about frumpy.