Mommy has a headache so...

I feel like someone's played "Whack a Mole" with my head, leaving my brain quivering in agony, and my neck feeling like a collapsed accordion.

Thunder and lightening commandeer the sky chasing me and The Booger inside.

I gotta lie down.

Next thing I know, tiny fingers grab my eyelids, pinching and pulling. "Mommy. Wake up. Mommy, why are you sleeping? You heads hurts? Are you sleeping?"

Someone's hands, probably mine, flail knocking the pincers away. Fearing a repeat attack, I cover my eyes with my hands.

My nose is twisted in an unnatural position. "Mommy, do you gots boogers? How 'bout snots? Hey Mommy, look. Look! I pulling your hair. Mommy, I'm pulling your hair."

Fanning my fingers ever so slightly, I brace myself for the next "incident." A brown eyeball hovers over my hand hole. "Mommy, are you in there?"

Air explodes from my lungs as a thirty pound toddler belly-flops on my tummy. "I'm not gonna bite your face, Mommy. I'm not."

"That's nice," I say covering my face as The Booger proceeds to lick me. Ew. I push him off. "Mommy's head hurts. She needs to rest a bit, okay?"

"Ohhh-kay. I gotta find my pick-up truck." Booger trots up the stairs. His voices bounces off the hall walls, "I foun' it!"

THUD! THUD! THUD! "Brrrrrrrrr, mmmmnnnnnrrrrrrrr. Mommy, your airms are roads. Mmmmneeeer. Motorcyles race up Mommy's arms, over her nose, down other side."

"Leave me alone!" Plastic motorcycles fly through the air. I cross my arms over my face.

"Ohhh-kay. I listen to thunder noise. God's playing the drums."

Peace.

"Mommy! I make you feel better. Take your medicine." My right eyelid is torn back and a plastic object is shoved into my eyeball. Screaming I swat. "No, Mommy, you need to take your medicine!"

"Eyeballs don't take medicine," I sit up and grab his arms. "Booger, that hurts!"

"Your nose. What about your nose. Your nose takes medicine."

My hand shoots out like a striking rattle snake deflecting the doctor toy (the thingie they use to look in your ears) headed for my nose.

"Ohhhkayy." A plastic thermometer is shoved in my ear. "I take your temperature, Mommy. You have a fever."

By this time not only my head hurts, but my eyeball is throbbing and my ear stinging. The phone rings. It's John asking me to find a phone number. I sum up the past few minutes of torture and feel something rush up my leg.

A motorcycle.

"Mommy, the motorcycle is gonna get stuck on your butt."

Lovely.

Mommy has a headache so let's go ahead and take her mind off her head by making other body parts hurt.

Anyone want to buy a kid?

Disclaimer: For anyone considering calling child protective services over my last sentence... Don't. It's a JOKE. Like, I'm gonna sell the Booger on Ebay. Seriously?