Chelsea has a scratch on the outside edge of her nostril from when her face accidentally collided with her father's fingernail the other day.
It is severely hindering her nose-picking, which is one of her top three hobbies these days (right after playing with trains and coloring pictures of trains).
She's not feeling well today, so I was lying down with her as she was settling down for a nap. She told me that her nose was hurting.
Me: Leave it alone. It'll get better faster that way.
Chelsea: But I can't reach inside it!
Me: Reach inside tiger's nose instead. (Tiger is her stuffed lovey.)
Her: Tiger doesn't have a nose!
Me: TIGER DOESN'T HAVE A NOSE?!
Her: Well, she has this kind of nose, but she doesn't have any pokes. (Pointing to tiger's nose and then my nostrils.)
Me: Nostrils.
Her: Yeah.
Me: Poor tiger! How does she breathe without any nostrils?
Her: She's not a real tiger. She just... she's just like... she's made of fuff!
There's no point to this story except that pokes and fuff are my new favorite words.
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