The other night, after attending a fun filled homeschooling event, I needed to drive my 3 children, plus two nephews home. The ages ranged from 3 to nearly 9.
I’m not counting my age, because that would throw the stats off by about 40 years. And would be beside the point.
As the children were all piling into the back of the van, Nephew #2 could be heard, “Aunt DeeDee, clean out your van, why doncha!”
I grumbled something that they could not hear, as I climbed into the driver’s seat of my ride, also known as Meals On Wheels.
The children, all high on vast amounts of sugar, were in rare form. The conversation was decidedly giddy, as we traveled in the dark of night. And then Cailey decided to take an impromptu poll.
“Raise your hand if you ever pick your nose!”
I didn’t even need to look in the rear view mirror to know that every hand was raised. Even Jensen, who has yet to discover the joys of nose picking.
But, considering his gene pool, his time in close at hand.
As it were.
The conversation went downhill from there.
Nephew #2: “I pick my nose, and then smear it on the wall!” He reported with pride.
Daughter #1: “YOU’RE KIDDING! I do that too!”
Daughter #2: “Well, I put mine on the side of my nightstand, and then pick them back off when they’re hard!”
Nephew #2: “Oh yeah, I’ve done that too. And then I’ve eaten them.”
Gales of giggling follow.
Me: “PEOPLE! I’M IN THE CAR! I CAN HEAR YOU!”
It was at this point that I began to regret the 3 trips I took to the Food Trough Line during the earlier homeschooling festivities.
I hurried my pace slightly, and arrived on my SIL’s street in record time.
Daughter #2: “MOM, can we go inside when we drop the boys off?”
Me: “No, we’re just going to slow down a little, and push them out!”
Ten wide eyes peered at me in the rear view mirror.
Totally worth it.
Dutifully, I pulled into the driveway, and came to a full and complete stop. The boys took great care to step over the trash, before they lept from the van.
Oh yes, I’ll clean out my van all right. And I’ll be putting on my glasses to inspect the interior seat and sides. Bunch of nasty nose pickers.
It is nice to know that the cousins have something to bond over.
In the spirit of full disclosure, I will tell you that when I was their age, I may have been known to deposit my DNA in an unusual spot or five. Though I would never have publicly admitted to such behavior. No. But I was compelled to spill my guts in the Catholic confessional on Saturday night.
For one horrified priest who likely had my particular stall disinfected afterward.