My son Tyler was a funny kid. At about two, he already had a rather expansive vocabulary and could verbalize his thoughts and feelings pretty well, I thought, for his age. He would often put words he had just learned in new and strange combinations to see how it would work out, often on-the-fly.
One day, Tyler had caught a cold, which worsened into a nasty sinus infection. It was kicking his butt. He had not gotten sick like this since he was a baby, so he wouldn’t have remembered what it felt like or how bad his nose would get. That day, I was Face-timing my mother, catching her up on all of the goings-on with work and such. Tyler runs screaming into the living room, wailing his heart out, his eyes swollen with disgust.
“What wrong, baby?”
“Dad! Something is really wrong!”
“What’s wrong, Tyler?” I put my hand on his arm, trying to calm him down. He was utterly desolate and inconsolable.
“My — my — my — ,,” he stuttered. “My boogers are melting!”
My mother chirped back on the phone, “What in the world did he just say?”
At this point, I’m cracking up. “Tyler said his boogers are melting, mom! Bwahahahahahahahah!”
My mother cracked up hysterically on the phone, and I doubled over. The look on my son’s face was pure disdain and shock. This was not the reaction he was expecting. His feelings had been slashed. The scream which followed spilled up from deep within his hurt soul.
“Stop laughing! My boogers are melting! You got to stop it!” His scream was strained now, broken. It was true. Phlegmy streams were pouring down his face to the floor from both nostrils in stunning flowing rivulets. Frankly, it was an impressive sight to behold. How could one little boy produce that much snot at one time?
“Mom, I gotta go. Tyler needs emergency treatment.” I could still hear her hysterically laughing as I hit the end button.
I quickly cleaned him up and snatched him up into my arms. His sobs went through me as I hugged him and told him that he gets his sinus problems, honestly. It’s in his D.N.A. I usually get a terrible sinus infection once a year and end up having to take antibiotics for it. We ended up having to take him to the doctor to do just that.
My mother brings up this scene fairly often, usually on his birthday or when she wants to have a good chuckle with me. As much as we laughed about it, she said she still couldn’t believe how well he had articulated his situation. He used the words he knew he could handle to describe his predicament. He caught us off guard, and our surprising response made it oh-so-much worse. It’s a shame I hadn’t captured his tirade on video to share with my readers.
Thus ends the ballad of Tyler, the child whose boogers were melting, all while his father rolled on the floor, clutching his ribs, in riotous laugher.
© 2020 Matthew Leo
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About the Creator
Matthew Leo is an Amazon self-published author of "Zombies Don't Ride Motorcycles". I have written over 200 poems, and written numerous articles. If you enjoyed any article please let me know with a heart & for more content please tip.
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
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