The Nose No's

I was washing T Junior's face tonight when I spied a little piece of boxer hair sticking out of his nose. Made sense as he was wrestling with Mr. T before bedtime.

Side bar: Why do dads insist on riling up children and dogs before bedtime?

Okay, back to the story: So I saw the hair and I made him tilt his head back so I could just grab the end of the little hair and pull it out. I can't knowingly send my kid off to bed with dog hair in his nostril.

Except as I peered in there I saw the world's biggest boog. Honestly, I don't know how he was breathing with that thing in there. And then I can't believe what I'm doing next.

I stuck my finger up there and scraped it out.

What in the hell are you doing? This is disgusting! The squishy snot ball slid under my fingernail and I let out an, "Ewwwwww!"

T Junior laughed.

Picking an infant's nose is one thing, a three-year-old's nose is something entirely different.

"Grooooosssss!" I continued as I cleaned out my nail and washed my hands.

T Junior, still laughing, said, "Hey Mom, lean down here." He wanted to look up my nose. (It was clear, I checked in the mirror first.) I bent down and let him take a peek.

"I see someffin'," he said (liar!), and then I saw his little index finger coming toward my face.

I stood up quick. "Oh, no you don't."

T Junior begged. "Let me pick your nose, pweeeeeeeeeeez!"

Giggling, I explained that it's just okay to pick your own nose with a tissue, really, and then added, "Just moms pick their babies noses sometimes."

We walked across the hall toward his bedroom. "And I pick your nose," he said.

I could see we were not going to agree. "Okay," I said, "when I'm really old, you can pick my nose."

"Okay."

Maybe he'll change his mind by then.