Last week I started my taxes. It was a cloudy day and Leah was playing quietly in the living room. I, of course, lost myself in the paperwork and did not think twice about just how quiet my daughter was being. It took me a few moments to come back to Earth and realize that she was trying to tell me something.
“Mommy, it’s in my nose,” she told me. I must also add that she looked rather proud of herself.
“What is in your nose?” I asked. “Do you have boogers?” (Mommy-Me is not as eloquent as Blogger-Me).
“No!” Leah said defiantly. “It’s up there! The swew is up there.”
It took me a moment to remember that “swew” is actually “screw”. I still thought she was messing with me, despite the fact that she was now rubbing at one side of her nose. And despite the face that she’s two.
Nevertheless, I grabbed a flashlight to appease her and told her to tilt her head back so I could see. I was quite alarmed to see a faint glint far up her nostril. I totally panicked when I realize that my child had, indeed, shoved a screw up her nose. I looked about and figured out that the screw had come from the back of a small wooden picture frame that had come in a package with markers for Leah to color. Without taking time to determine the size of the screw, I hastened to take her to Urgent Care.
I was picturing a large screw with a pointed end that could impale her nostril from the inside out. I drove quickly, yet carefully, and kept glancing in the mirror to make sure she wasn’t rubbing her nose.
Despite my terror, Leah was remarkably happy and chatty. I ran with her into the lobby of Urgent Care, and was ushered immediately into a room by a nurse. This served to make me believe that things were more serious than I had originally thought. I was wrong. One nurse took all my information on a computer, while another took Leah by the hand and walked her around showing off how cute her coat was, and getting her stickers. Leah proudly told everyone that she had a swew in her nose.
The doctor came in and said she got cases like this on a weekly basis and not to worry. She was able to remove the screw in seconds with a tiny pair of alligator clamps. The screw was very tiny and had a flat end, not a sharp one. I could have had Leah blow it out, but I wasn’t going to try that with the picture I had in my head of a much larger, sharper screw. All in all, we were at the Urgent Care center for about 20 minutes.
On the way home, I drove steadily and quietly. Suddenly, a wave of relief washed over me and I began to giggle like a mad woman. I had realized how funny the whole thing now seemed. Leah also began to laugh and we drove home this way; safe, sound, and happy.