(If booger-talk grosses you out, don't read this)
I had an interesting conversation with Owen at bedtime. It all started with a piece of green fuzz from a blanket. The fuzz was sitting on Owen's shoulder, so I picked it off and said, "Hey Owen, there's a booger on you." A really perturbed look crossed his face, like he was about to cry. I told him, "I'm just teasing, Owen. It's only a piece of fuzz. Are you that scared of boogers?" Owen told me he was. The following exchange ensued:
Owen: I'm scared of Drew's boogers.
Me: Do you come in contact with Drew's boogers that much?
Owen: Drew puts boogers on my head.
Me: What?!
Owen: When he laughs. He gets boogers on my head.
Me: What?!
Owen: But I just put them back in his nose.
Me: That is just gross, Owen. You shouldn't put your finger in other peoples' noses.
Owen: [laughs] I don't put my finger in his nose! I put his boogers in his nose!
Poor Drew was fast asleep and unable to defend himself.
2 comments:
I may skip out on hugging both the boys on my next visit to Pocatello . . .
Boogerphobia, I think, is the technical term.
Oh, and the 'word verification' security thingy made me type the word 'brothel' in order to post this comment.
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