Wednesday, April 28, 2010


“Guess how many fingers I have?” he excitedly asked. Apparently he was just learning how to count or something.

“Ten?” I asked.

“No!” he shouted. “I only have eight fingers.”

“You’re right,” I said somewhat patronizingly, although he wouldn’t recognize that it was patronizing.

“Guess how many thumbs I have?”


“Good guess. I have one on each hand. Know what finger is my favorite?”

“No, I don’t.” I said. “Which one?”

“This one,” and he held up his index finger. “Know why?”

“Why?” I asked politely.

“Cause I can do this,” he said, and he popped it right into his nose, dug around a little bit and pulled out a little piece of green. “It’s a booger,” he proudly proclaimed.

“I can see that,” I said.

“Know why they call it a booger?”

“I really don’t,” I said, somewhat afraid of what the answer was going to be.

“Yeah. Nobody does,” he said. “It’s just one of those words. Bye.”

And he was off playing.

You gotta love the innocence of children.

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