You are walking through a room, you look down and see this little, orange LEGO and think…
a. I should pick this up and put it away before someone steps on it.
b. this would be awesome on the tip of a rocket
c. when did they start making this cool color for LEGO
d. this would fit perfectly up my nose
e. none of the above
If you were my youngest son you picked “d.”.
Yup, I can’t really follow what train of thought led him to the final act, but, he did.
On Friday night, I tucked him in bed, said our prayers and sang a slow, quiet song that was supposed to send him off to the Land of Nod.
Not quite.
He quietly tiptoed out and said he was too hot in his polar fleece, footed pajamas and asked if he could change.
Somewhere, in the process of changing, he found this tiny, orange LEGO and decided to stick it in his nose.
He knew what he did was wrong right away.
He came out crying and told us what he did.
My husband and I glanced at each other (the way spouses do in these kinds of moments) as we jumped out of our chairs.
My husband looked in his nose and couldn’t see anything and I went to the bathroom to get the tweezers.
I had visions of going to the E.R. and having to explain why we were there. I saw myself saying some joke about ‘little boys’ to ease the sting of paying a fifty dollar fee for retrieving a little, orange LEGO.
** I could buy a nice LEGO set for fifty dollars! **
We were very fortunate that this piece came out on its own pretty quickly.
I think the crying helped lubricate the inside of his tiny nose and the shape of the LEGO made it easier to exit his left nasal passage.
Hopefully this experience has left a memorable imprint which will discourage him from attempting it again.
If not, I’ll have him read this post! Hee, Hee!!!
