A few days ago Mercie told me there was a bead in her nose. Assuming that she was just jumping on the bandwagon, I ignored her. Unfortunately Eric came home from the doctor with a huge stack of stickers, and all four kids have been plotting how to get back to the doctor so they can also collect massive quantities of stickers.
A day later Mercie told me her nose hurt because there was a bead in it. I took a cursory peek in her nostril, didn't see anything. I felt the outside of her nose; no bulge.
The next day Mercie got mad at Eric (something that happens approximately 11,435 times a day). She opened her mouth to take a deep breath for the loudest possible scream and when the scream came out, so did an object--from her nose. A slimy, snot-covered clear plastic bead.
All four of my children have now tried shoving things in their noses, with varying results. On days like today I remind myself of Roseanne Barr's credo: "As a mom, if the kids are still alive when Dad gets home from work, then hey--I figure I've done my job."
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