I Never Eat Boogers

I don’t even like them.

Okay. So I’ve never even tried, not even as a child, not one booger Sam I Am but I just know. I would not eat one in a box or wearing sox or while writing with chalks. There was never a time in my whole wide life that I wasn’t repulsed by the sight of some young buck slurping his own secretions. From my earliest memories I’ve known that doing so was sick and wrong.

And so today I sat in discussion with one of my children, locked in eye contact when the individual-in-question pulled a nugget from its cavern and shlumped it into their mouth without batting an eyelash.

Gah!

“You are a Thompson!” I wanted to shout, “Thompsons are anti-boog-ites. Thompsons know right from wrong. Thompsons will now all go and rinse their mouths out with disinfectant, gargle, rinse with bleach and repeat.”

I did make the individual-in-question rinse and gargle before we could continue talking. I did extol the virtues of a booger-snack-free lifestyle. What more can I do? I can’t rinse and gargle mental images away. That one will always be burned in my memory.

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