My three and a half year old grandson has lately been afflicted with a bad case of the “Boogies”. And when he says ‘”Boogies”, he doesn’t mean like in Woogies. Nope, he means boogers. And like most snot-nosed kids his age, he’s got em coming out all over the place, to the point where we gotta constantly remind him to blow his nose in a tissue (which we gotta hold).
Some times I catch him just mindlessly picking his nose. One little cherubic finger jammed way up there mining for “Boogies”. I know, it’s disgusting, but hey, that little guy just mastered two parts of his body six months ago. So if ya got your bladder and bowels under reasonable control, might as well clean out that ‘boogie’ factory up your nose. Thing of it is, he doesn’t think it’s particularly disgusting; he’s just delightfully taking care of business.
Made me think back to the days when I so uninhibitedly last cleaned out my own boogie factory. Was probably less than a week ago. But what a good place to be in: comfortable in your own body; without social taboos or constraints; and just being yourself in all its magnificent glory.
Here’s a few “boogies” that invaded my nasal passages, broke through my skull and penetrated my brain. I place them here, of course, for your consumption.