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I’m a better parent…not perfect…just better.

Alexander and his plastic bead

Yesterday our son, Alexander, was supposed to be resting.  Resting is a new thing because at 4 1/2 years old he is not always able to take a nap.  When his Mom went in to check on him he was whimpering and then she saw his face covered in blood.  She called me and by the time I got there he was crying.  She asked me to get him down from his bunk bed (yes, at four he wanted to move to a big boy bed, and it had to be a bunk bed.)  I did and after several, “What happened?!?” questions, we learned that he had stuck a plastic bead up his nose.

Now if I were a young parent my next statement would be something along the lines of:

“What the Hell were you thinking!”

But I didn’t.  Instead I searched the bed to see if possibly, and mercifully, the bead was not up in his nostril, but rather was just on the bed somewhere.  After a thorough search we learned it was nowhere to be found.  The realization began to sink in that a plastic bead that he had found outside that day…after laying in the dirt for decades…was up in his sinus.  As a young parent my instinct would be off to the ER, but rather we decided to wait.  By this time he had calmed down, the bleeding had stopped, and his Mom and I decided that this was no longer an emergency.

The Bead of Shame

At this point we began to explain to him that when things like this happen he needs to call for us rather than try to fix the problem himself…a good parent thing to say, but to a 4 1/2 year-old it was like explaining the real definition of Socialism to a member of the Tea Party.  Still, it was a better parent thing to say than sentences that began with, “Don’t you ever…”

This morning we were able to see it with the help of a..a..a nose-looker-in-thing and made a couple of attempts to suck it out with a…a…a nose-sucker-thing..I don’t know what they’re called…I’m male remember.  After no success in extracting the plastic bead we called his Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor, who, coincidently will be removing his tonsils next week.  They set up an appointment for tomorrow.  We were resigned to have to sheepishly go into the doctor’s office and try to explain why a little boy would be allowed to have a plastic bead in his possession.

Happy boy, happier parents

However, this afternoon he was ‘sniffling’ and we told him to blow his nose, lamely hoping that bead would come out and this would become a good story to tell his girlfriend when he was sixteen, when behold, the bead came out!

We are trying not to think about all the bacteria on the bead when it went up his nose, but the fact that it came out was the best news that we’ve had in a long time.  As for any four-year old girls out there who may be dating my son in twelve years, be forewarned, you’ll be hearing about the bead-up-the-nose story.

I said I was a better parent…not perfect.