I didn't realize my last post would generate such concern. My sweet, delicate flower of a child who laughs like a trucker with a dirty mind, and stuffs foreign objects up her nose is fine - no harm done. What she had jammed up there was a small Playmobil part. And after I gathered myself up off the floor where I was laughing hysterically at my poor tearful and panic-stricken child, I asked her for a great big breath in through the mouth, and a right good blast out her nose and, what do you know? The part came shooting out with great fanfare. Tears were dried (both the sad, will-this-thing-remain-in-my-nose-forever?!!-kind, as well as the give-me-a-moment-to-indulge-in-mockery-kind) and the whole experience has pretty much been forgotten. And I don't think she'll do it again. If the sheer horror of the toy-lodging didn't scare her, the sight of her own, unsympathetic mother guffawing at her expense did.
I'm very sorry, Fia, for my spontaneous and inappropriate response to your plight, but it was so ridiculously funny I couldn't help myself. I hope you won't be forced to seek years of expensive and painful psycho-therapy in your mid-thirties for this. If you do, send the bill to your father, please.
2 comments:
Ahhh the good ol' farmer blow did the trick... nice.
P.S.
Love the new look, especially the disclaimer, it had me rolling.
I'LL justify my previous concern. I, who thrive on the excuses that Post Traumatic Stress Disorder allows me. My persoanl trauma was a peanut up the bro's nose. I personally felt that he got what he deserved, after all he had to do it on Saturday evening which was the go the to outdoor drive-in movie night in Rocks Springs Wyoooooming. It started as a peanut and ended up looking like a football-after that warm moist environment and all. Enough!!! And we all had him pegged for dead, for sure. Some things you never gorget..............thus.....the response. G-ma
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