A few days ago, Noah was in watching a movie while I was in playing on my blog was in the other room doing something SUPER productive. Suddenly a piercing screech had me leaping from my seat to go see what was wrong. It wasn’t a simple holler or cry, it was a “daddy come save me before I die” kind of screech. Any parent knows the sound of which I speak because when it happens your heart stops cold in its tracks and every muscle in your body contracts, preparing for the worst.
I raced into the family room where Noah had a look of sheer terror on his usually chipper little face. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Daddy, get it out, get it out!” he cried as he held his face. “Get what out?!” My panic was growing. “Daddy, get it out! GET IT OUT!” Tears were streaming down his face.
I held his face and asked him to point to where it was hurting. He pointed to his nose. “Get it out, DAD!” He was in more pain than a dad could watch. “Do you have something in your nose?” He grimaced and looked at me. “Yes, daddy!” I looked in his nose and could see nothing. “What’s in there?” I asked. “A NUT!” he squealed.
“Did you put a nut in your nose, Noah?” I asked? “Yes and it hurts so bad, dad!”
I spent the next 20 minutes helping him work the nut down. No easy task for a little boy who doesn’t understand how to force air out of just one nostril. Finally, I saw a rough bulb begin to appear, impossibly too large to fit into his nasal cavity. With one final blow, it broke free and flew across the room. I looked at it in disbelief. He had somehow managed to stick an entire pistachio up his nose and force it up so high that I couldn’t see or feel it inside.
He squealed again, only this time with delight. “That was a big nut, dad!” I looked at him and shook my head. “Noah, you shouldn’t stick nuts up your nose.” He trotted off, happy as a hummingbird, never acknowledging what I had just said. “Noah, did you hear me?” He rolled his eyes and looked at me. “Yes dad, no nuts in my nose.”