(Aside from the scar)…
So, when I was younger, like 10, my brother and I had rooms right next door to each other. In between our rooms was a closet that held towels or something I never cared to know about. I was a booger picker as a kid. Not a booger eater, thank God, but definitely a picker. I used to wipe my freshly picked nasties on the closet door when no one was looking. Because let’s be honest, a tissue was just too much damn work.
One day, being the considerate older sister that I was, I told my mom that my younger brother was disgusting and had been wiping his boogs on the closet door. How did I know? I had caught him. In the act. So, she did what any mom would do and decided to hold him responsible for his actions. He had to scrape the dried boogs from the door using a spackle thingy. And I gleefully watched the whole thing go down. Damn I was cruel.
Cora’s new fav thing is to stick her finger up her nose to her brain. The other day while doing so, she told me she had a booger. “Lemme get you a tissue,” I said, trying to properly mitigate the situation.
“Put boogers on wall?” She said as she walked towards the nearest wall in her room, finger outstretched.
Apparently karma is a bitch.
