This is a story I've never told anyone, not because it's some deep secret but because, honestly, it's not much of a story. I've just been remembering it lately.
Now is the time of year when everyone's allergies flare up. I can't stop sneezing, and the Sand Man seems to have set up camp in my eyeballs. I've noticed, also, that Matthew has taken to rubbing his eyes regularly. In addition, he has been using his index finger to excavate his nostrils. (Somehow I figured that would sound less crude than, "He has been picking his nose," but a rose by any other name can't be smelt with a stuffy nose, right?)
Anyway, Matthew's olfactory treasure hunts have brought back memories, from when we were little, of my father teasing him for picking his nose.
Matthew used to get nose bleeds all the time. Like, easily once a week. My father would joke that he got them from picking his nose, and, naturally, Matthew denied these allegations.
The teasing went on though.
"I bet you eat your boogers, too!"
"Ew, Dad, that's gross! I don't eat my boogers!"
This was a pretty regular conversation in our household, and one day, something occurred to me.
"Wait... people eat their own boogers?" So, I tried it.
And that's why I ever ate a booger. Honestly, it wasn't too bad, as far as I remember. A bit salty.
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