my four-year old hazel has the confidence of Jay Z with the skill level of zach galifianakis. she believes in her heart of hearts that if you are messing with what she has deemed the proper way to carry on in life that it is solely because you do not understand. for example, one morning hazel was taking her sweet time with each step as she got ready for school. she was making up a song about taking off her socks. she continued the medley to include a selection explaining she could do it all by herself. each piece of clothing took about five minutes, including time to fall apart and growl at her shirt because one of the sleeves was inside out.
i was growing impatient, but still confident we would make it through this day and even this fourth year of her life. on my way back in the room from getting socks that weren’t so “frustrating” i saw hazel putting her finger in the fan.
“hazel NO! that is really dangerous you can never put your finger in a fan!”
“but i have to mommy.”
“there is something that spins in fans that could cut your finger if you put it in there.”
“but that’s where i put my boogies!”
i’m sorry, what? i am a worrier, especially when it comes to my children, and the fan i had selected didn’t even have a spiny thing that would hurt her finger. i was just trying to reinforce the lesson for any other time that she cared to approach a death fan. the whole reason the fan was in the room in the first place was because when she was a baby i read horribly scary things about what could happen to your child if they got too hot while they were sleeping. this fan oscillated, it had power settings. y’all it has a remote.
you know what else it has? a stash of dried boogies. that pure air that was going to keep my baby cool and safe? it was circulating the germs from thousands of snot rockets that never got to take their maiden voyage. i was simultaneously intensely grossed out and amazed: 1) that there was a system for where to put the boogies after she had picked her nose and had to dispose of the evidence, and 2) that she believed in her heart of hearts that if she explained this system to me that she would be allowed to not only store her snot in her fan, but also carry on sticking her finger in any fan she came across, as fans were obviously going to be sold at the container store in the near future as boogie receptacles.
so happy friday y’all. this moment was too good not to share. let it be a lesson to you in your superbly confident ventures out into the world when you seek to interact with those who have not come to the same conclusion you have. tread gently. walk carefully. for in your explanation of your genius to the rest of the world you may just discover that you have boogies in your fan.