Buggers

Somehow we've been blessed with a lovely balance of personality in our small household. Andy and I, both first children in our families (yikes on so many levels), have been gifted slightly zany, offbeat, kooky kids. This makes for a mom that can seldom keep a straight face. I have been known to quickly exit the room and run to the bathroom for a suppressed laugh. Prayer time is not always so reverent in this household and dinnertime seems to always digress to certain topics, like a moth to a flame.

That said, my son tends to regularly shock, amaze and humble me. We have had (a-hem) issues with boogers and the rug near his bed. Let your imagination wander and be properly grossed out. Mom has taken this situ into hand several times over the years and thought that it was gone, never to return (silly woman). Yesterday, I ventured into his lair to change sheets, only to be met with a crusty texture under foot. A very loud bellow rang through the house and he KNEW he was in for it. This is the thing: he knows how to get me every time. His silly grin and, "I'm sorry mom." You will say I melt too easily and I readily concur yet there it is. So he has a large blackboard over his bed and I took his colored chalk into hand and in large letters wrote, "No Buggers on the Rug!" I was pleased with my emphatic addition to his chalk board, when I noticed him snickering. What? Yes, yes. Buggers. Buggers. Buggers. Damn his ways and adorable smile. So there it sits on his board - his reminder that mom can't spell and certainly can not keep a straight face.