I recently saw a plaque that said "Grandchildren are God's reward for not killing your children". When I have granchildren, I am going to buy the biggest plaque I can find with that saying on it. Heck, I may even paint it on the side of the house in BIG BOLD LETTERS.
Naptime came around today and guess who we couldn't find...Bear-Bear, the one and only. I gave Emma another bear (whom she so kindly refers to as Bear-Bear's Mommy) and told her that she would just have to make due with that one and if she throws a fit and wakes up her brother, so help me sistah! You get the picture. She actually did pretty well...until about half an hour later when she came to me in full freak-out mode...
I thought she had just reached her breaking point due to the lack of Bear-Bear...until I saw the orange stream of liquid oozing out of her nose that sent my mind into all kinds of spinning. After calming her down, I realized that there was indeed something small and orange way on up inside of her nose.
Me: "WHAT DID YOU DO?" (Really trying not to freak out as I realized that I probably needed to brush her hair a little more and make her wear something that matches before I rush her to the pediatrician who would tell me that "sorry, the foreign object has traveled up her nasal cavity into her brain where it will remain lodged and continue to spill orange liquid for the remainder of her days") (It truly is amazing what all can run through your head in 2 seconds flat during a moment of crisis...and yes, something stuck inside your child's teeny-tiny nostril is indeed a moment of crisis, for those of you who have never encountered such a situation.)
Emma: I just wanted to make my nose look different.
In a split-second of clarity, I held the unclogged nostril shut and told her to blow. After frustratingly trying to teach her to blow through her nose and not her mouth, she finally did it. Out shot a popcorn kernel followed by what looked like a white miniature jawbreaker, which obviously used to be orange.
When my heart rate slowed down to a sprinter's pace and I realized that we had just dodged the bullet in the jawbreaker lodged in brain thingamabob, all I could do was laugh...but not before threatening Emma within an inch of her life to never ever ever ever ever stick anything in her nose again. Oh, that is soooo Emma.
And no, she never did take that nap. Too hyped up on sugar.