Signe woke up yesterday with a snotty little nose. I tried to suck out as much of the green goo as possible with a bulb syringe, but there was some stubborn stuff up there.

It was clearly bugging Sig, so I really wanted to get it. I pondered maybe using a Q-tip or something, but decided against it for fear of hurting her.

As she fell asleep in my arms, she rested her little hand on her little face, and that’s when I noticed that her fingers are just the right size to get at the boogies. I didn’t force her to pick her own nose, of course, but I did have this little epiphaneous question come to mind:

If God didn’t want us to pick our own noses, why did he make our fingers the perfect size to do it?

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