Twenty years ago I remember driving down Pacific Coast Highway in California with two of my children strapped into their car seats behind me. They were having a humdinger of a row. They were arguing because India had picked her nose and had proudly managed to produce a bogey the size of an ant. While busy admiring her handiwork, her younger brother Archie had snatched the highly prized treasure from her finger and was attempting to eat it. They were fighting so much I eventually had to swerve onto the hard shoulder, clamber into the back seat and sternly lecture them both on the delicate etiquette of nose-picking.
‘Whoever picks it, gets to eat it. Understand?’ I admonished sternly. ‘No stealing one another’s bogies. Ever. Archie — give it back to India immediately and say you’re sorry. I want both of you to promise me to keep your hands to yourselves until we get to the beach.’
I often thank my lucky stars that my domestic Bogeygate occurred a long time ago and over in the States.
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