Picky Children

Our younger son is giving me the cold shoulder. I have no idea how I can be so noxious to him before 9 am so as to warrant this treatment. It actually gets under my skin. I'm admitting it. I was going to put him in the time out corner, but then I saw that someone was using it as a booger depository, and his punishment took a back seat to cleaning. I need a hammer and chisel for these things. Yuck.

Both sons are completely out of the closet when it comes to their nose-cleaning efforts. Their styles are quite different, however. Our older son is a snot rocket kid. He plugs one nostril with his index finger and blows air out through the other nostril with such alarming force that people in his vicinity literally duck for cover. I've been tagged on many occasions. Sometimes I was unaware that I had been tagged. Jealous of me yet?

Our younger son is a nose picker. He'll pick it until it bleeds. However, he does so with his left arm! I add a note of pride to my disgust when I see him do this because this son suffered a brachial plexus injury in the birthing process. His left arm was paralyzed when he was born and did not begin to move until he was nearly a year old. Nerves heal very slowly, and in that healing process, muscles are in danger of suffering atrophy. There is a distinct posturing that occurs in the arms of people who have suffered brachial plexus injuries which makes certain movements impossible, such as the movement used to pick one's nose.

Three years ago, I flew with him to Houston for surgery on that arm. My husband stayed at home to keep our older son in his familiar routine, and my parents generously came with me to Texas. That trip literally changed our son's life. Today, his injury is virtually undetected. And, while I think I will be emotionally scarred forever for having to travel across country with my then four-year-old for surgery, he can now live his life without a physical disability. He can, if you will, pick his nose with pride.

Yes, I have TRIED to stop the nose-picking. I admonish. I tell them they are DIRTY. Yuck! Gross! I've written social stories. Friends have given me social stories.

Our younger son says it is just his preferred mode of operation. Hand him a tissue, and he'll hold the tissue in one hand yet pick his nose with the other.

Hand our older son a tissue, and he'll just eat it.