"Ahhhhh!" I screamed as I found yet another door frame stained with a long rust colored streak. Sickened with the evidence that confronted me at every turn, I marched with righteous indignation up to Briz. "There are boogers on every surface of this house. This is one of those things seasoned moms keep from new moms so the race can continue. I can't confront it. After eleven years of it, I get too angry.
Sweet Briz approached the topic on the way to the pet store to purchase a new tree frog. "Honey, you have got to stop wiping boogers." he said sternly. "When we get home, get the bucket and scrub brush. You know what you need to do."
"But Dad!" she whined. "I try so hard! You don't understand! It's like smoking."
"Are you saying you are addicted to booger wiping?"
"Yes. I try and try, but before I know it, I've wiped it."
"That's understandable. Next time your urges get the better of you, and you feel bad after you've caved to your addiction, grab a rag and get it while it's nice and soft. Then you won't have these hour long cleaning sessions.
What's a mom to do but introduce a new skill?