Friday, January 27, 2012


I called this blog the Nose Picker Chronicle referring to myself because I was a chronic nose picker.  I wasn't picking my own nose, but I happily dug into Bean's nose daily.  Like a surgeon, I would carefully suck out booger after booger, bragging to my husband about the size of the snot that I removed from Bean's nostrils.  Picking Bean's baby boogers embodied all these weird things that became routine for me.  Cleaning poop off my bedspread, clipping someone else's toenails, cleaning the lint between tiny toes, picking at her baby scalp all became very ritualized activities for me, but my favorite was booger excision because at the end, I'd always have big shiny green booger to show for myself.  It was a tangible, yet small achievement of my motherhood.

I didn't realize that there would come a point when Bean would also pick her nose.

Around nine months, we were sitting at the table and I was cramming some food into her mouth and then without provocation, Bean jammed her pointer finger into her nostril.  It was a moment of wonder for her.  In that precise second, she determined that there was an opening on her face (besides her mouth) that fit her finger perfectly.  It was like her very own shape sorter on her face.  She was in awe.  I was in disgust.  No!  That's my job!  Get that out of there!  YUCK!  I shouted until, she sadly withdrew her finger and went back to eating her lunch.

And here we are almost a year later and Bean has found her nose again, only this time she's picking it with alarming regularity.  Beacuse she has a cold, every pick is rewarded with a big wet booger.  After snagging her snot, she extends her pointer finger at me, and proudly shouts "Booger."

At least, her vocabulary is developing nicely.

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