No More Peas
Hayden is innocently eating his lunch, which partly consisted of leftover pasta with peas from yesterday (yes, I should have known better, but then, what’s the point of leftovers if you have to come up with something else to serve?). He starts sniffling, picking, then whimpering. Whimpering takes on a more panicky tone. I ask, “Do you you have a booger? Is your fingernail hurting you?” Duh, Mom. OMG!
I toss a paring knife aside and run over to him, and sure enough, a green pea in the right nostril. Far up the right nostril. In his attempt to recover the pea, he had pushed it beyond the reach of his dirty fingernail.
I might have bused some expletives, in a panicky tone. I smashed the tip of his nose toward his face (pliable, youthful cartilage!), hoping the pea would fall out through his expanded naris. Nope. I was finally able to push the pea down like I was squeezing toothpaste from the bottom of the tube, and it fell out into the crumbcatcher of his bib.
Hayden is grounded from peas.