Nasal Passing

At some point in every parent's parenting career, a curious child comes to the realization that of all the cracks, crevices, and orifices in his body, the one that is in most need of a foreign object is the nose. I recall an incident from my own childhood when my younger brother conducted an experiment involving his nose and a bean. Other parents have similar stories, I'm sure.

This morning the nose incident invaded our family. If you notice the date, it is the first Monday in September, better known as Labor Day. Here is how our holiday began:

As with most mornings, the kids emerged from their rooms right at 6:30. My wife and I were still in bed, drifting in and out of sleep as we listened to them playing peacefully with each other. I thought about getting up, but had no reason to yet, so I continued with my fake sleep for a while longer. Around 6:40, my six-year-old son began sneezing. It was unusual because the sneezes were coming one at a time with about ten seconds between each. This is unusual because Zach's typical sneeze pattern is the double sneeze. (Think Ah-choo, Ah-choo without even the slightest pause in between.) The ten-second pause caught my attention just because it was a variation from the norm. Moments later, I heard another sound: the sound of footsteps approaching our bedroom.

"Uh, mom," the voice began. "Ah-choo!" Sniffle, sniffle. "I put one of those rolled up barrette things in my nose and I can't get it out." Both of us are instantly awake at this announcement, envisioning a barrette jammed into our son's nose, hooks and clips digging into his sensitive nasal passages, blood dripping out.

"You did what?" I asked jumping up and turning on the lights.

"I put a rolled up barrette thing in my nose and I can't breathe," he said very matter-of-factly.

I looked at his nose and didn't see anything except for some very moist drippage forming about a fingernail length up the passage. "Show me what you put in there," I said. Being the obedient kid that he is, he went to bathroom where the girls keep their hair things and came back out with a very small blue rubber band. "That makes more sense," I said slightly relieved as he showed me the offending item. "Let's look again," I continued very calmly on the outside while the inside of me was screaming, "We've got to get that thing out of there! Our ER co-pay is a hundred bucks!"

This time I got a flashlight and illuminated the nasal cavern to try to catch a glimpse of rubber but there was still too much drippage. "Get a tissue and blow hard," I said. He blew for several minutes without much progress, so I sent him over to Mom since she is the one who is really good at saving money. "Try holding the other side closed," I suggested. And the blowing resumed.

"We're getting some movement!" Mom exclaimed.

"Yes!" I shouted. "If that snot comes out, it is worth its weight in gold. Keep blowing."

And the blowing continued. "I see it!" Mom shouted. "Get me some tweezers!"

"Where are they?" I asked.

"I don't know," she replied.

"Breathe through your mouth, Zach. Don't sniff it up," I yelled as I frantically dug through bathroom drawers and cabinets looking for tweezers. "I have needle nose pliers in the garage," I suggested.

"Too big," my wife replied. "He's got a little nose."

"I think I saw some tweezers in the trailer when we were camping last month," I said. "Breathe through your mouth!" I hollered once more as I sprinted out into the yard to retrieve the camping tweezers. Moments later I returned with the tweezers and handed them to my wife.

Zach's eyes instantly doubled in size and panic seized him upon seeing the shiny metallic object. "You can't put those in my nose," he stammered.

"Just hold still. You won't feel a thing," I said. Even so, the panic grew and the noise level increased. "I'll hold him, you dig the rubber band out," I said to my wife. With a very professional headlock and arm hold, poor little Zach was immobilized.

"I got it!" Mom shouted holding up the small blue band still pinched in the tweezers.

I breathed a sigh of relief and looked around the room for my daughter. It only took a moment to find her hiding behind the chair in the corner of the room, hands over her ears, eyes closed, and a very concerned look on her face. I'll bet neither of them will every try that activity again.