Imagine, if you will, that you have just wielded your light-up wizard wand and vanquished any and all dark forces that may or may not have been lurking in the kitchen. When such a job is complete one wants to tuck one’s wand safely away, in say a pocket maybe, for future use.
But, alas, upon examining your cute, plaid, flannel pajama pants, you discover you have no pockets! What do you do?
Well, if you are a three-year-old boy, you drop your pajama pants down around your knees and try to stick the wand in your underwear “pocket”. Dude, it is a pocket, right?
Fast forward to later that day but in a different place. To be specific, we were in a rather large, rather unique grocery store taking a tour for a home school field trip (I am now, by the way, a huge fan of persimmons, which I had never eaten before).
At this point Tank Boy did have on pants with pockets, but that has no actual bearing on this story.
“Mom! I hab a booger in my mouf!” he said rather loudly.
Why is it when someone says something completely unexpected we say, “What?”
“What?” I said.
“I hab a booger in my mouf!” he repeated to the glee of everyone in the group but me.
“Oh, son, that’s gross,” I said as I began to dig for a Kleenx in which he could spit the booger.
“It’s o.k.,” he loudly interrupted my all-too-brief search. “It’s gone now.” And, no, he had not spit it out. We pressed on.
Now, aren’t you glad I didn’t include a photo illustration of underwear and loogies? Though, really, I could have at least taken the produce sticker off that top persimmon, no?
And George, if you’re out there, Tewt the Newt says hello.