The Story of a Booger

When Ian was smaller he would get really upset when I would wipe his nose.  I think maybe he thought I was taking the snot out and it was actually supposed to say in there.  To make it more of a game I would tell him I was collecting his boogers for my collection, that conveniently was stored in the trash can.

(Yeah I know I'm weird. That is a surprise to no one who knows me, I'm sure.  I make up games and songs to make mundane and unpleasant things more fun.  If you don't like it you can put on your "Socks and Shoes! Socks and Shoes! It is time for Socks and Shoes!" and "shake your groove thing" on out the door.)

So now that Ian is a little bigger he doesn't mind me helping keep his nose clean and will allow me to look for and clean his boogers and runny (or as he calls it "wet") nose.  I usually look inside his nose and act all horrified by the state of his nose and dramatically clean it up to save the day. Sometimes he gets his own tissue and wipes his nose himself, putting the drama into throwing the tissue away.

(See being goofy works!)

Somewhere along the nose wiping way I started calling Ian "Booger" as sort of a nickname, anytime he was being a bit of a pest or had a runny nose.  It seemed appropriate because being the keeper of boogers is sort of one of the main jobs of a mom and kids keep mom's in steady supply of reasons to do this job.

(I also call lovingly call Ian, "Bubba" and "Stinky Foot" as a play on Littlefoot from A Land Before Time and the fact that Ian does in fact have stinky feet.)

Well now that you know the back story; last night Ian and I were wrestling on the floor, generally goofing around and being obnoxious.  At one point he grabs my head with both his hands and tilts my head to look up my nose, pretty much the exact way I do to him.  It was pretty random, but I like to go with the flow and see what he comes up with next.  After a thorough inspection of my nose, Ian decided I had a "wet" nose.  He looked closer, I assumed to determine if I needed a tissue, but then exclaimed very animatedly, "Booger!  Then he got the look of mock horror on his face and ran away screaming.

(The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?  My poor kid is going to be as weird and I am.)

((I think I might save this story to include on my application for Mother of the Year.  Clearly, with this type of parenting I am going to win hands down.))