Gross

I could tell a story of my run this morning that involved a zit, a mosquito with amazing accuracy and a bloody mess...but I won't. Let's just say that the zit's gone. So is the mosquito.

Today I'll stick with gross Jack stories. Don't we all have tons of them? Those of us with boys in the house that is? Okay more on this later. Must tend to the sick child.

I'm back. Do we talk about the boogers, the poop, the volumes of ear wax, the bloody skinned elbows and knees, the bodily noises (that are frankly at the point where he actually practices them for volume and longevity!), or the potty mouth?

Ah where to begin. If at all. I'll keep it light.

Jack: Mooohhhmmm, Ma, maaaaaaaaa, MOM!
me: (breaking my neck to run into the kitchen) Whaaaattt!
Jack: I gohd da big boogah...helllp!

I look over at him and a giant green bubble is growing out of his nose. How can one kid produce volumes, VOLUMES I tell you, of snot. When he blows his nose, the poor tissue ends up looking like a water balloon for all that it holds. Gross right?

Jack: Mooommmmmaaaayyyyy!
me: Yeeesssssssss?
Jack: I'm donnnnnnnnnneeeee.
(this of course only means that he has finished pooping. I walk into the bathroom, he's on the floor, face pressed to the rug, butt in the air, and well, gross stuff is being pointed in my direction.)
Jack: Wipe please!
me: First you have to wipe yourself. Gross Jack. Don't point it at me like that.
Jack: Ohhhkaaaayyyyy. (Makes a half hearted attempt to wipe his own bum)
me: Here, lemme check. (One must always check this area after business has been conducted. Until what age I ask??? Someone tell me when they can officially wipe their own ass!)
Jack: See? It's much better when you do it. I get it all over everything.

Gross.