Pixie has learned many things in her time in kindergarten; reading, writing, and the classic pick-and-eat technique.
I cannot tell you the number of times I have said, (in a hushed, horrified whisper) “quit picking your nose!” Toddler, who recently discovered that her finger fits perfectly up her nose, shocks her sisters to no end by putting fingers in both nostrils when they gross-out at her nasal investigation (pot calling the kettle, if you ask me).
I come by the nasal horror honestly–I was a major nose picker as a child. Like seriously. However, I was NOT an eater. Eeeeeeeeewwww. Eeew. I, ahem, was a wiper. I recall (with a shudder) the wall by my bed that was decorated with nasal discharge. When our house was up for sale, I distinctly recall standing unobtrusively in front of the wall while a family toured our house. Nice. Gotta wonder what the Realtor told my parents about the feedback…
Anyway, I can one up that little horror story. In first grade, I sat behind a very sweet little girl named Bunny (well, her name was actually Cheryl, but she went by Bunny, I wonder if she still does). Every so often, a long, stringy, dangly booger would be found under her desk. (Eeew.) When confronted by the teacher, she would tearfully deny it was hers. I can recall her asking me if I believed her. I assured her I did, though at the tender age of 6, I was TOTALLY lying.
Due to my childhood association with all things “rhino”, I am a bit of a boogie Nazi. Heaven forbid any of my children get caught with their finger up their nose. Oh, you’d think a crime against humanity was committed by my reaction! I’ll ask, with great feeling, “Do you want a tissue to take care of that??” (inject an appropriate level of venom here). It’s not pretty, my friends, not pretty at all.
So, I am pretty sure that Pixie’s new skill is re-payment for all my shrieking, whispering, and poison-laced comments. Sigh. Can’t wait to see how much of that action we catch on tape at the kindie graduation….eeeewwww….