Me (to Brother who is found picking his nose): Do you need a tissue?
Brother: No, I’m just getting this out.
Me: It’s a booger.
Me (as I see him contemplating the booger’s destiny): Well, don’t eat it. Put it in this tissue and throw it in the trash. It’s yucky.
Brother (after further contemplation): Yeah, it’s yucky . . . but the good boogers are for eating.
I thought about challenging this assumption but wisely chose to retreat instead. A mother has to pick her battles.