A-a-a-a-h! Naptime. I’ve nursed the baby; she’s content in her bassinet. The twins are tucked in for their afternoon rest time. Now I get to put my feet up for a few minutes of what I consider a well deserved, much needed break. I might even get to read a couple pages in this romance novel before it’s time to pick up my daughter from kindergarten. I hear rustling from upstairs and a half-suppressed giggle or two. I roll my eyes. Am I going to have to go up there? With three-and-a-half year olds, and boys at that, one never knows. Then all is quiet again. Maybe that should’ve been my clue.
My eyes are drifting shut even before I’ve finished the first page. Must be that four a.m. feeding that got to me. Oh, what’s that? Footsteps on the stairs coming down. My eyes pop open to take in the sight of one tow-headed boy poking his head around the door into the living room.
“What’s up, son?” I ask.
“I hafta go potty,” he says.
“Alrighty, but then you need to lie down and close your eyes for a little while. You don’t have to go to sleep, just be still.”
As he marches towards the hallway something about him looks a bit strange. A slight deformation in the nasal area; something pink protrudes from one nostril.
“Son,” I command. “Come over here, please.”
He complies, leans innocently against me.
“What is that in your nose, son?”
“I don’t know,” he says.
My examination reveals a tiny pink bulb. What is that lodged in his nose? My fingers push and prod to expel the small, round pink plastic bead of which the bulb is a part. It’s from his big sister’s set of plastic snap beads, the kind that can be popped together to form a necklace. This puts a whole new meaning for me into, “It’s all about the accessories.”
“Were you in your sister’s room instead of napping?” I ask.
“No-o-o-o,” he shakes his head emphatically.
“Where did you get this then?”
“I didn’t,” he says. “My brother did.”
“I see. Well, son, you must never put anything in your nose again. We were lucky we could get it out.”
“I didn’t put it my nose, Mommy. My brother did it.”
Now this is something I wouldn’t put past his brother who has been known to come up with some rather interesting ideas in their playtime. I take my son by the hand and escort him back upstairs. I sit down on his brother’s bed.
“Son,” I say, “Your brother says you put this snap bead in his nose. Now, honey, you must never put anything in anyone’s nose, yours or your brother’s or anyone.”
“But, Mommy,” he says. “I didn’t do it. He put it in all by himself.”
Rolling my eyes, I turn back to snap bead boy. “Your brother says he didn’t do it. Tell the truth now. How did that snap bead get into your nose?”
With big brown eyes looking straight into mine, without a hint of his dimples showing, he says, “Well, Mommy, I was balancing it on the end of my nose and it just fell in!”
I am barely able to hold in my laughter as I once more admonish them about the dangers of sticking objects into bodily orifices and tuck them back under the covers. I have a feeling that even though I manage to get all the way downstairs and into the bathroom before I explode, those two little imps know that Mom isn’t really mad at them. But I think I will have to tell snap bead boy that pink isn’t really his color.
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