pleased to meet you

I was in charge of D Ward last night, and one of my new admissions was a little boy who's going to be having surgery today. My report to his nurse, Lee Ann, was brief. His blood was drawn and he's super-cute. Within minutes, Lee Ann had him shrieking with laughter, coming dangerously close to throwing himself out of his bed with his wild attempts to pop every single bubble she was blowing over him. He and I spent a while waving to each other from our respective seats in the ward, and when I had a minute, I went over to say hi. Bonsoir, I told him, offering him my hand to shake. Good evening.

I expected him to take his left hand, the one he'd been furiously waving to me with, and use that to say hello. What I somehow failed to realize was that the index finger of his other hand was buried way up past the first knuckle in his right nostril. As I stood there smiling like a fool, he carefully removed the finger from his nose and wiped a huge booger in the center of my outstretched palm.

Bonsoir.