"Hmmm...celebrate what?" I asked, trying stoically not to give into the silliness. After all, a babysitter, above all else, must make sure that the kids are asleep by the time the parents get home. At this rate, between booger chats, chicken nuggets, superhero jokes and the Land Before Time (not to mention the insistence of my 2 year old cousin to change into "prettier" pajamas), my chances of fulfilling the sitter requirements were slim to none.
As if that weren't enough, my cousin's look of mocking disbelief for asking how picking one's nose could possibly be cause for celebration made me feel like hope was lost.
"You know" he spoon fed to me "... celebrate BOOGERS!"
oh.
of course. How could i be so dense? The point of picking your nose is to celebrate boogers.
The point of boogers is so that we can pick our nose so that we can celebrate.
Such a simple concept, but so true.
The point of having Christmas is to celebrate Jesus.
The point of taking exams is to celebrate learning.
The point of attending parties is to celebrate friendship.
The point of writing is to celebrate reading.
The point of praying is to celebrate God.
My booger of a cousin has taught me something incredible.
Too often, we get caught with our fingers up our noses, searching for substance in the darkness.
But we can't just get caught up in the picking.
We have to remember the point.
We were created to celebrate.
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