Or when they DO do something that every parent dreams of, you just assume it's your awesome parenting?
We've been parents for almost four years now. Two children. And never has either of them stuck anything up their nose. So obviously - superior parenting.
Except their finger. But I totally blame their paternal parent for that.
|image - les paul guitars|
Until this weekend.
When the two year old decided to stick two unpopped corn kernels up her nose while watching 'The Little Mermaid' with her Aunt and big sister.
|because there are other kids movies apart from Frozen. really.|
And then Sunday morning while engaging in a spot of extreme reading (don't all small people try reading books and skating on alphabet cards at the same time?) she flipped over and head butted the carpet and her nose started bleeding.
To be fair, it was a spectacular stack and the blood nose not entirely unwarranted.
Until we realised that it wasn't a blood clot or part of her brain at the top of her nostril, but a piece of unpopped corn. So we did what all families like to do on a Sunday and went and hung out in Emergency for almost three hours.
Because rule number one with things up the child's nose is don't stick something else up it like tweezers, cotton buds or your fingers to try and get it out. If you push it up further and obstruct their breathing - shit gets real.
So we go to hospital, and we get triaged. And settle in to wait.
And discovered that hospital waiting rooms offer a unique set of challenges to parents of small people.
We had to stop our three year old licking the floor of the hospital. Why? It's unhygienic? Oh why did she try to lick it? Who knows? Kids are weird.
We had to stop the three year old getting too close to the lady who had broken her foot in two places playing soccer 'just to see what broken feet look like'.
We had to stop them asking 'what is wrong with them' at top volume every time somebody went up to the triage window.
And we had to make 'can we go home yet' into an adventure game. We know that corn up nose of two year old who is still breathing is way way way down the bottom of triage, but entertaining two bored small people for almost three hours in a waiting room should have put Nick and I at the TOP of the triage list. Sure there were some possible neck fractures, broken bones, old people needing assistance with breathing etc but minding small people in a waiting room? That stuff is hardcore and life threatening.
And then, we meet Doctor Geoff who has a look and explains that we need to blow air into her mouth really hard just to start to see if that dislodges it, because that's less traumatic for the child then holding her down and shoving forceps up her nose.
It's always their first approach though it's not always successful apparently. But it's a good place to start though they ask the parents to do it, because strange doctors covering the mouth of a small child doesn't exactly make the ordeal trauma free.
So I blow into her mouth while blocking the empty nostril, and Nick holds her in a strait-cuddle - and POP goes the kernel. Straight out of her nose and onto her shirt.
|doesn't melt in nose. just for future reference|
Three seconds tops.
And off we went and lived happily ever after. Three seconds. Hold me.
And for when it happens to you - you're welcome.
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