I heart my little booger

People always talk about the unconditional love our kids give us, but do you know what I think is even more amazing? The unconditional love we have for them. They poop, stink, bark (that’s a typo but I’m going to leave it because it’s true), barf, shit all over us, figuratively and literally, and they’re just plain weird. Take this conversation I had with my 3.5-year-old the other day.

ME: Today a lot of people are coming over.

ZOEY: Who?

ME: Some of Daddy’s friends. And their kids.

ZOEY: What kids?

ME: Like Charlie.

ZOEY: And Barley?

ME: Who?

ZOEY: And Tito?

ME: No, there is no Tito.

ZOEY: And Bastobeecolalala.

ME: Ummm, no.

At this point, she starts to shove her finger up so far up her nose, I think we might have to see a neurologist when she’s done.

ME: Stop doing that.

She keeps going.

ME: I’m serious, it’s disgusting.

She continues to ignore me.

ME: Fine, at least go to the bathroom to do it then.

ZOEY: (all serious and shit) Mom.

ME: (all serious back) Yeah?

ZOEY: Don’t look at me.

ME: I’m not going to stop looking at you so you can pick your nose.

She crawls under the desk to finish. Note to self, 409 the crap out of the floor there.

See what I mean? I see like a thousand reasons in this conversation to disown her, but instead I just grab her by the ankles and drag her out from under the desk and give her a giant hug. This pint-sized poop-machine has got me wrapped around her little, booger-infested finger.

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