I met cheese tonight. Not the yellow square kind. Not the stringy kind. This was special cheese. It lived in a bowl and let me dip things into it. Chips. Fingers. Daddy’s straw. A spoon..

I dipped. I dunked. I painted my plate with it. I baptized my chicken finger. I whispered to it. “You are my best friend now.” Mommy said it was called “queso.” I said it was called “forever.”

Then—disaster. My tummy said, “We must pee.” I stood up. I announced it. Loud. Like a king. “I HAVE TO PEE.” Mommy pointed to the bathroom. I pointed to the kitchen. “I want to pee in the SINKS.” She said no. I said “BUT I’M THREE.” She said “That’s exactly why.” I wailed. I flopped. I tried to crawl toward my destiny. She scooped me up like a traitor.

And THEN. The betrayal got worse.

She looked at my nose. She gasped. She said, “Oh buddy, you’ve got some boogers.” I said, “I NEED THOSE.” She did not care. She reached in. She plucked. TWO. GIANT. BOOGERS. Gone. Just like that. I screamed. I tried to grab them back. She threw them away. I cried the cry of a man who lost his treasures.

I tried to re-booger. It didn’t work.

She offered more queso. I forgave her. Mostly. I dipped again. I dipped a crayon. I dipped my pinky. I dipped a napkin. I dipped my sadness.

Tonight, I learned that cheese can heal. That sinks are for dreams. That boogers are not safe. And that sometimes, even when your mom ruins everything, she still knows where the queso lives.