Boogers

“Mahwee! Mahwee I got it!”

“What do you have, Zach?”

“I got it for you!”

Zach comes to me, holding his finger triumphantly aloft. I recognize this pose.

“Where did it come from, Zach?” Realise that I still do not know what “it” is, but I have my suspicions. “Did you get that out of your nose?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, here, let’s wipe it off on a kleenex, okay?”

Two minutes later, he again approaches me, finger aloft, beaming smile on his face. This, he is confident, is a sure-fire way to get immediate adult attention. Besides, he’s proud of his excavating skills. I determine to disappoint on the reaction front. I give him a look of boredome. “Another booger?” I yawn. “But no more, okay? I’m not interested in boogers.”

“No?” The boy’s illusions are crumbling. I don’t like boogers? Boogers are boring? He contemplates the greenish mound on his finger.

And pops it in his mouth.