Chris was at choir practice Sunday night. The children had gone upstairs to watch a show in our room. I was cleaning up the kitchen after dinner.
After about 5 minutes, Quinn came downstairs.
Quinn: Mama. I got a bead up my nose.
**And then my heart stopped. And I felt a surge of panic. But I tried to stay calm.*
Me: What do you mean you have a bead up your nose?
Quinn: I put a bead up my nose and now it stuck there.
**And this is when I went, "Oh, crap." And my stopped heart sank into my stomach.**
Me: What kind of bead, Quinn? (One of mine? One of the girls'? We have a lot of beads in our house.)
Quinn: Ummmmm, a purple bead.
**And then he shoved his finger up his nose to the second knuckle.**
Me: Oh, no, Quinn! No, no! Don't put your finger up there! Here, let Mama take a look.
**And then I tipped his head back and sure enough, there really was something up there. My stopped heart that was in stomach plummeted to my knees. I frantically dialed Chris's phone. I mentally began calculating how long it would take to get Ike in the crate, the girls up to CB's house, and how long of a drive it would be to ER. Chris was already in Athens, he could meet us there. Panic. Sheer panic.
Sidenote: When I was 17, I had cat scratch fever (no, really, its true) and my parents had to take me to the children's hospital and there was a small child screaming in a room while the doctor extracted an acorn from her nose. I envisioned this being Quinn. It didn't help the situation.**
As the phone continued to ring, Quinn began blowing through his nose. On the 3rd blow, the bead shot across the room. Quinn took off after it. Upon retrieving it, he commented....
Quinn: Oh! Look, Mama, its a yellow bead, not purple!
Close one. We have discussed in great detail how nothing should be shoved up one's nose....ever.