Bringin' on the Heartbreak

My three-year-old, Brick, recently confessed something to me.  It caused significant anguish and frankly, I am not sure what to do with the information he divulged.  I am hesitant to share it with you, but here goes.

I was wiping his face in the kitchen, paying close attention to his seemingly permanent nasal crust, and he said to me in his sweet, innocent voice:

“Sometimes I hide from you.  And daddy.  And I eat my boogers.”

“What did you say?” I gasped.  “You EAT your BOOGERS?”

He looked a little uncomfortable, but reaffirmed that yes, he snacks on his boogers. 

I clutched my chest and curled up into a ball on the floor as elementary school flashbacks came to me.  There was the kid who ate the Elmer’s paste.  The kid who passed gas during story time and the teacher actually got angry and shamed him (it was really foul).  The kid who licked the frozen playground pole*.  And perhaps the most offensive: the kid WHO ATE HIS BOOGERS.

Where did I go so wrong? How did I end up with a confessed booger-eater? My older son, Ferg, once informed me that he didn’t like to blow his nose, he would rather sniff the contents back into his head cavity, because “it tastes like eggs.”  I know, digusting.  And I’m sorry if you had a Perkins date scheduled for this weekend.  But to actually dig into your nose, pull out a booger, place in your mouth and eat it? That surpasses any and all boundaries of human decency.

I would have been less disappointed had he told me he’d hotwired our neighbor’s car and sold it for parts.  Or got caught shoplifting a tube of Silver City Pink lipstick at Target (oh wait, that was me in junior high).  Or held up an armored truck dressed as a nun (oh wait, that was Ben Affleck in The Town).

Have your kids made any confessions that caused you immense grief and undue suffering?

Yours truly,

The Adult Imposter

*That kid was me.  And yes, it hurt.