Brenna emerges from her room.
B: "Mommy, look at my nose"
I look. It's running. What else is new? Looks about the same as always.
M: Let's get you a tissue.
I get a tissue and wipe her nose.
B: It hurts.
M: Why does your nose hurt?
B: It just does.
Ok.
M: Well, let's wipe again. Can you blow for me?
B does the 3-yr old version of blowing which is ineffective in the best of situations.
M: Better?
B: No. It still hurts. There's a cheerio.
M: A cheerio? Where is there a cheerio?
B: In my nose.
M (no matter how hard I try, in situations like this, I just can't seem to resist asking the obvious question that I know will not receive a satisfactory response): Why did you put a cheerio in your nose?!
B: I didn't. It just got there.
[Cue images of sinus seeking cheerio fairies with little wings flying through the air seeking random noses to enter...
I mean, really, how do I think the cheerio got there? Silly mommy!
So I move on to figuring out exactly where in her nose this cheerio is. Actually, I have a brief moment of wondering how she managed to get a whole cheerio into her nostril considering that a cheerio is definitely bigger than her nostril. But, after about 3 nanoseconds of contemplation on this apparent physical impossibility, I decide it's not worth the cognitive energy and move on.
I grab her princess flashlight and tell her to look up at the sky. Sure enough there is a cheerio wedged waaaaaayyyy up in her nose.
Again, I briefly wonder how in the world she managed to get a cheerio wedged so far up her nose but again realise that it is probably not worth the cognitive energy and I move on to trying to figure out how one gets a cheerio out of a little nostril.
I consider my options:
Tweezers will not work. It's too far up there and they are too big.
Blowing is not working since the 3 yr old version of blowing is less than effective.
I'm not thrilled with the idea of a trip to the doctor to have it removed, but it is a possibility. Or at least calling the doctor's office to see what they suggest. (Once again it occurs to me that having a doctoral degree in child development and child psychology does not prepare you for real life. Did I miss the Cheerios and Your Child 101 - Cheerio Extraction course in grad school?)
So, when in doubt, ask another adult. I take Brenna into the room where Michael is flat on his back recovering from surgery to make his right collarbone bionic and say,
As Michael is a rational adult, his first response mirrors mine. He turns to Brenna and asks the obvious: "How did a cheerio get into your nose?!"
[insert conversation between me and B above]
In the end, Michael comes up with the best solution. Get the NettiPot, strip B down, put her in the bathtub, and flush it out. Needless to say, B is less than enthusiastic about this idea and goes into complete hysterics requiring that I chase her down, strip her, put her in the tub and block any possible exit. She is a wiggly little thing!
Thank goodness cheerios are water soluble. Two good pours from the NettiPot, one big blow, and out it came.
Hopefully, this experience will stick with B and we will not have to do battle with the Sinus-Seeking-[insert foreign object here]-Fairy again.
To be fair to B, this could have been a lot worse. The cheerio was only there for a short period of time and is a somewhat natural, soluble substance. Ella at the same age stuck a bright orange foam sticker with the letter 'V' up her nose where it remained for several weeks.
Eeeewwwww!
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