This one got a pea stuck in her left nostril yesterday:
As in, a dried black-eyed pea.
We have a jarful of said peas in the house because the 6-year-old uses them as counters for his math lessons.
As they say in the South, wha happen wuz…
Marsi was sitting at the kitchen table with her big brother. They were both playing with the peas, pushing them around and piling them up and so on. I was in the back room reading with Kid No. 2.
As I worked my way through the Disney Frozen Music Player Storybook with our 4-year-old, I faintly heard 23-month-old Marsi crying in the kitchen, but crying is a very common reaction in our household, so I wasn’t so alarmed. A minute or two later, my husband delivered the crying child to me in the back room.
“Oh, what’s wrong?” I asked her, trying to be authentically interested, just as I always do. Because when mini-disasters like this happen 20 times a day, you slowly, over a course of months and years, become numb to the concern that something real might actually be wrong with the kid.
“Asher says she stuck a pea up her nose,” Beau replied, looking dubious.
Hmmmm. Again, we never act too quickly based on our kids’ eye-witness accounts. These kids of ours are as likely to see an elephant lumber through the living room as they are to notice a puddle of spilled milk on the floor. You truly never know with them.
But as I listened to Marsi’s despairing wail, I indeed discerned the smallest hint of sincerity in it. It was not her usual hold-me-a-wolf-is-coming cry. Rather, I heard notes of something’s-really-wrong-this-time.
So we laid her on the floor in the living room, under the big light, and with a flashlight discovered that there was, indeed, a pea stuck up her nose.
My immediate thought was that we were gonna have to head to the emergency room. We’ve all heard of parents rushing to the ER with the baby who swallowed/tried to swallow/otherwise ingested a foreign object, right? You thought those were urban legends, didn’t you?
But, on second thought, Beau and I decided we might as well make an attempt at home rescue. I obtained my favorite tweezers which I keep hidden from the children. Beau found one of three blue bulbous mucous-suckers that are in our family’s possession — you know, those things they send home from the hospital with every new baby which can be used to clean baby’s airways and which our kids use as weapons of torment on each other.
I pushed her little nose back as far as it would go, but couldn’t quite grasp the slippery pea with my tweezers. That’s when Beau stepped in with the mucous-sucker primed and ready. And — with a thwwwwwp! — he extracted a pea from the nose of a very relieved little girl.
So we didn’t have to go to the emergency room. But the whole ordeal could’ve gone either way. And in case, like me, you never believed that kids got peas stuck up their noses in real life… we both stand corrected.
© Tami Blake