Last night, as my lavender-scented, freshly bathed son was brushing his teeth, a giant, stringy booger escaped from his nostril.
Of course, I overreacted, because even after four years of boogers, they still skeeze me out.
DON'T MOVE, LET ME GRAB A BOOGIE WIPE!
I flung open the bathroom closet door, ripped open the flap, and frantically began pulling out boogie wipes.
Unfortunately, I was too late.
Big E had used the bathroom mirror to retrieve the majority of his booger with his finger. He eyed it like the biggest piece of Publix birthday cake ever.
I watched in horror as he ate it.
Seriously. I just gagged. Even almost a day later, the thought still rolls my stomach.
BIG E! YOU DO NOT EAT BIG BOOGERS LIKE THAT!
I launched into a diatribe about boogers and how they are full of germs and dust and other environmental hazards.
He looked at me sincerely.
OK, MOM. I'LL ONLY EAT MY SMALL BOOGERS.
I dropped my head in defeat.