Gabby woke up screaming the other night. I went into her room and held her, and when she had calmed down a bit I asked, "What's the matter, sweetheart? Did something scare you?" (I asked this because she'd had a nightmare about a peacock the night before).
"I'm scared, Mommy."
"What are you scared of?"
"I'm scared of boogers."
Which was her way of telling me that she had a stuffy nose and couldn't breathe, and that she found that sensation a tad unsettling. But honestly, a fear of boogers seems completely reasonable to me at this point.
It's been a pretty awful, booger-filled winter around here. We've all had one cold after another. Poor Dylan has had a stuffy nose and grunky eyes for, let's see now, about 60% of his life thus far. And we all had RSV, which, if I recall correctly from the in-depth research I conducted with the help of Dr. Google and Web, M.D., stands for either "Really Shitty Virus" or "Rapidly-Spread Virus," or maybe it was "Remarkably Sucktastic Virus." Anyhoo, it appears that approximately 99.98% of all children in this area have said disease at some point in the last three months. (And by the way, what's with all these childhood diseases that we didn't have when I was a kid? Or did we have them and just called them something else, like "nasty cold and fever that lasts three weeks"?)
I suppose that means the preschool years are upon us. Those happy, golden days of wonder, Popsicle stick art projects and eternally runny noses. I can't wait to see what these years bring.
And meanwhile, I'll stock up on Kleenex.