The Beast: [Frantically.] Mommy, I got boogers! I got boogers!
Me: Come here, Baby. Let me wipe your nose.
The Beast: [Runs to the kitchen.]
Me: [Get a Boogie Wipe (it’s an actual thing) and wipe his nose. Notice something in his hair and start to pull it out with my hands.] What is this in your hair?
The Beast: Boogers, Mom. I put boogers in my hair. I don’t like boogers.
Me: Can’t say I’m very fond of your boogers either.
You may think that’s gross, but I assure you that if you have kids and haven’t had that conversation yet, you will.
If you don’t have kids yet but hope to have them in the future, consider yourself warned. You might want to print off these pages and collate them into a parenting book because the stuff I’m giving you is pure gold.
Everyone tells you about the love and cuddling and joy. Nobody tells you about the snot and the poop.
Consider this blog to be the snot and poop of parenting advice.
Scene: On the floor in The Beast’s room changing his diaper.
The Beast: I touch my knees, Mommy?
Me: Yes, you can touch your knees.
The Beast: I touch my penis?
Me: Yes, you can touch your penis.
The Beast: I touch Mommy’s penis?
Me: Mommy doesn’t have a penis.
The Beast: (Sympathetically.) Awww.
The kid is 2 and already knows that having a penis means you rule the world.
Scene: The Beast is at the table eating his peanut butter sandwich. As usual, he shoves too much in his mouth and starts to gag on the sandwich.
Me: [Bang on The Beast’s back to dislodge the sandwich.]
The Beast: [Gags up sandwich. Points to the pile of masticated and regurgitated food.] Look, mom! A cinnamon roll! Fer youuuuu.
Me: No, I’m good.
Glamorous. I know.
It is now 2:00 p.m. on Tuesday, I am still in my pajamas and I haven’t showered since Sunday.
The word you are looking for is “sexy.”
Or maybe “ripe.”
I truly don’t know how my husband keeps his hands off of me.