The Sitter

Dear Zoo Keepers (guess that would be us),

I will never forget the opportunity to (there are a lot of erase marks here and it is barely legible) your boys. We had an interesting evening, but you should know everyone was still breathing when I put them to bed, including the boys.

When taking Logan to tuck him in, he came up short, gasping in shock...

Where is it?

Where is what?

The booger...

What booger?

The one I left on my pillow earlier...

umm...

...for snack.

Ewww...maybe it fell in the floor?

It fell in the floor?

Maybe.

And you stepped on it and got it on your shoe? That's gross.

After Logan fell asleep I pondered why it was gross that I have his booger on my shoe, while he is okay saving one for later. I am unsure whether to suggest social skills, hygiene or tolerance training. Call me again though, as this is fascinating research for my thesis.

Sincerely,

The Sitter

[I guess its easier to see the booger on someone else's shoe, than the one in our mouth. Prejudice exists in that great divide between who we think we are and who we know they are. Tolerance makes us feel slightly better, yet safe in our insulation. Is tolerance really love though?]