They really are. Really.
This last week, while we have rumbled with bedtime routines and rituals, V has totally discovered that awesome orifice that is the nasal cavity. And I say cavity, because he has somehow managed to get the majority of his hand right up his nose.
Bed-time and boogers apparently go hand in hand.
It was kind of funny actually. This past week, when V has said “Mamma too.”, I have crawled into bed with him and rubbed his back and soothed him until he has fallen asleep. This worked magnificently for about 3 days and then changed dramatically. And I guess what really changed is that he discovered that he could remove things from his nose. And put them in his mouth.
So Thursday night, M was home late and I was in charge of V-man. We read some books about Puppies (capitalized as apparently they are that important) and cows (also quite important, but not capitalized and so) and then settled down with our sweet classical music.
He was a little restless, unusually so for him. I cuddled next to his tossing and turning body and I was trying to stay super still and make a lot of deep-breathing noises. I had hoped that this would encourage him to be less restless.
He wiggled. He squirmed. Arms moved all over the place. My eyes were closed for about 4 minutes or so. Things seemed to calm down. I opened my eyes.
Finger right in cavity.
And then right in mouth. And then he said “Nummy yummy!!” And then I said “Ewwww” again. And then he laughed at me. And then those fingers reached over to my mouth and patted my lips gently. And I tried not to be totally grossed out by that.
And then it happened again the night following. And the night after. So I feel like I have fallen into a trap. Like he has trapped me, deliberately.
Dude. Those fingers are so up the nose way too much. And in the mouth. And then back in the nose. And then back in the mouth. Dude.
Any attempt from me to stop the fingering is met with awful and super volume resistance. And with a mild amount of physical violence. (He smacked my hand. It made me mad.)
He is not even a little grossed out. It’s just like a natural progression of boy-hood. And that makes me scared for what is to come.
Hands down pants? Poop on walls? Boogers on faces?
Geez. Us. Che. Rist.
So gross. Please pray for me and hope that our next child will be a female child. Pray hard. There needs to be a literal injection of femininity in this house, and I don’t mean getting another dog. I need a larger dose of it and human dose at that.
I am heading to bed. To the land of dreams and pretty lacy things, pink unicorns and sugary goodness. And no boogers.