Booger, Booger on the Wall
Who the Heck Flung You There?
Who Says That?
|There it is—the dot to the right of the TV|
Booger, booger on the wall, from whence cometh thou? That’s not quite how I asked the question yesterday. It was more like: “Ewww. Is that a booger?”
Vacuuming clumps of dog hair and mounds of dog and cat dander high enough to resemble anthills wasn’t gross enough. Just as I pushed the vacuum in front of the television and looked to my right, there it was—a booger on the wall! “Is that your booger?” I asked my son. It was more of an accusation than a question because it certainly wasn’t my booger.
If my family were normal, the accused child would say, “No way! Not me.” However one defines normal, it is not a description fitting anyone swimming in our gene pool. Instead of lying and saying, “No,” my son looked at the distance from “his” chair to the wall, and said, “I’ve never gotten that good with my booger-flinging capabilities.”
“You’re the only person who’s been here!” I said.
“What about Chelsea and Timothy? They were here a few days ago,” he said.
“Don’t blame them,” I said. “This booger is fresh. It’s not dried and crusted. Get it off, now!”
What family has such conversations? Mine. And what family uses the wording booger-flinging capabilities? Mine. Not only are said family members booger-flingers but they also are intellectual booger-flingers with vocabulary and grammar skills.
A day later, the booger, now drying and getting a bit crustier, still maintains its place on the wall. The kid is truthful, but he isn’t too obedient. I’m ready to step into martyr mode where “Nobody around here does anything. I have to do it all myself” and clean the booger off the wall. In the future, I’m not even going to ask, I’ll just put on my hazmat suit and get to work.