Digging for gold . . .

So, the three year old's new thing is exploring his nostrils, extracting anything interesting he may find then commencing with a show-and-tell session.  We call them "bogies" because I love Harry Potter, think "troll bogies" are disgustingly hilarious and just plain prefer "bogies" to "boogers."  The other day he picked one, on the smallish size, at Target then proceeded to give the cart a nice bogie massage.  So those anti-bacterial wipes at the entrance?  Get one.  Actually, get four.  You know what, just buy your own cart.

Last night while watching "Olivia" he turns to me and says "Mommy, I have a bogie."
Me:  "Ok, let me get a tissue."
Him:  "I like this bogie."
Me:  "Um, ok, well here is a tissue."
Him:  "I like to eat the bogies."

Luckily I swooped in with the tissue and got the bogie and probably the top layer of skin off his index finger before he could eat it.  Tonight after doing extensive research (about 5 minutes) I found this article.  I knew there had to be some sort of "-xis," "-mania," or "-agy" associated with this ick but had NO idea it was this scientific.  Oh, and yes, I did start to throw up a little bit in my mouth while reading the article.  I bet the same people who buy into this and are over the age of 4 (at least I hope that is when most kids stop this mining) are the same people who drink their urine and use the natural grease from their hair as a moisturizer.

Today it was:  "Mommy, I have a bogie."
Me:  "Ok, let me get a tissue."  (note, every bogie conversation starts this way, every time.  Unless there are absolutely no tissues around and I have to do the repulsive mommy move of wiping it . . . never mind, I am not admitting to that.)
Him:  "I want to put it back."
Me:  "You want to put the bogie back in your nose."
Him:  "Yes."
Me:  "Why?"
Him:  "He has friends in there."
Me:  "Really?"
Him:  "Yes, they are resting."

So now we know that bogies have friends, can be active or sleeping, and act as an amuse bouche for the toddler/preschool set.