Snot

The little goons and I have all been hit by a nasty virus that seems to take up residence in the sinus passages and chest cavity. The virus has officially been declared all the more nasty as my sons' interest in their bodily productions have increased. (Mom, I know you will gag your way through this entry!)

In past entries, I have invested a large amount of time and energy investigating the dark and unknown territory of what makes boys tick. Sadly, I am no closer to understanding the nuances of the male gender, however my past week with boys and snot has almost sent me over the edge of sanity.

My oldest goon is a very very very picky eater. He requires all of his food to be separated and he is specific about temperature and texture. Bacon is ordered "hot and floppy, please". It is astounding that this same goon who will not eat pasta has no problem pulling virus by-products from his mouth and nose to look at, play with, and then throw back down the hatch. My littlest goon, on the other hand, likes to see what interesting formations his by-products will create if they go unaddressed by a tissue. God forbid that you may want to actually create a hole in his nostril for him to breathe through.

Due to our little virus, I have spent the last days running into each room with a tissue ready to do battle against the goons' natural inclinations toward snot. I have run myself ragged trying to keep them sanitary and presentable. I have talked to my oldest goon until I am blue in the face about mucous being actually "nose poop" thinking this analogy would surely gross him out. I forgot male gender nuance number one: fascination with all things having to do with the bathroom. Nose poop is now a hilarious five year old boy playground joke.

Last night I was sharing my snot issues with my husband. As a physician, he should support my war against inappropriate snot handling. He should gather up his own tissue bazooka and join the 'snot patrol' as my son now calls me. Well, my husband was clearly in agreement about our role as parents to keep at it...to fight the good fight...but, apparently the apple does not fall far from the tree. My own husband admitted, after a long pause, the he understood the fascination with one's own boogers. He did the same things as a kid. And you know what....??? The aforementioned pause was not a pause in time to allow the speaker to gather the courage to admit this great secret...he was mulling over my oddity because I would prefer not to examine the tissue after I have used it.