Mommy's Disgusting

Dearest Daughters,

Did you feel that?

I changed our banner. And it just rocked my world.

I guess I was feeling festive. Or feisty. Either way, the old banner just wasn't cutting it for me anymore.

I wrote a date on the banner, which in principal means that come November, I'll have to change it again. Don't get me wrong, I like doing stuff like this. In fact, I wish I could sit around all day and create website banners (in my underwear, of course)(you're welcome)(for the visual)(which you have in your head now)(if you didn't before). I just don't have the TIME to do all that. Maybe in November I will. Create a new banner, that is. Not sit around in my underwear. That's just silly. November is much too cold.

I REALLY REALLY REALLY wanted to sub-title my banner with something derived from recent letters, something witty or goofy or just plain bonkers. Because that's who I am. And I think stuff like that is amusing.

I wrote about nose-picking the other day. It was probably the most popular thing I've ever written and people not only told me so on the Internets, but in Person in Real Time Real Life to My Face. When I sit here and write to you, I never know what people will respond to or how they will respond. Sometimes I don't even know how to respond to my own writing, that's how flat on it's face it falls. That day, I was just writing for you and for me. And, by golly, there were other people listening!

Except your father. I knew it when I was writing it, as sure as I knew it when he told me, as sure as I'll know it 'til I die: he thought it was DISGUSTING. That was his one word for me as he inched further away from me on the couch. He found ZERO humor, insight or educational value in my advice to you about nose-picking.

Also, he hates spiders. And I'm not fond of birds (unless they are large flightless chickens). And my banner design was going with the spooky, eerie, scary Halloween theme.

So, I was going to write a subtitle on the banner, something to the effect of:

Dearest Daughters - Disgusting you one bird, bug and booger at a time. Or Dearest Daughters - Disgusting Daddy one bird, bug and booger at a time. Or Dearest Daughters - Disgusting you with boogers. Or Dearest Daughters - Boogers are disgusting. Or Dearest Daughters - Don't pick your nose. Or Dearest Daughters - We love boogers.

To which he said, "Disgusting. Don't do it."

So, I picked my nose right then and there.

Love,

Comments

[Mommy (not yours, but theirs)]

That, right there is: Truth.

[Kate Derrick]

I read part of this entry out loud to my grad school friend Megan. Her comment: "Boys are just mad because their fingers don't fit in their nose." I suspect this statement to be universally true.