Tuesday, December 15, 2009
I am beginning to wonder if the majority of all children should be riding the short bus.
I was in the school office last week, when a teacher brought in a hysterical 1st grader. Hysterical is actually an understatement. While the teacher was frantically calling the little girls mother, the rest of the staff was trying to figure out why she was in hysterics.
Then the office staff went into hysterics. All I caught was nose and pom-pom.
The lights then went off and I heard some major ding ding ding-ing.
I knew how to fix this problem.
I clapped my hands like the professional that I am and exclaimed "Never fear! Motherboard is here!"
I called for the industrial strength vacuum STAT. But visions of law suits began dancing in my head. Then I actually thought for one teeny-tiny second about having the little girl plug her nose while I breathed the breath of nose freedom into her mouth. But then the law suit vision happened again.
The child was hysterically sobbing and with every giant breath she took, that little pom-pom got sucked further and further up into her noggin.
I went to the little girl and told her all about Moxie and how just the day before she had put a purple crayon up her nose. I even told her how I tried to use the vacuum to suck the crayon out. Her eyes got as big as saucers, Then I told her she needed to stop crying that instant because every time she breathed in, that pesky pom-pom was getting ever closer to her brain.
Yes, I know. Not a good idea to tell a first grader that the pom-pom she stuffed up her nose is traveling to her brain.
But, you know what? She instantly stopped the howling and looked me in the eye as if I were the mighty Jedi Master and she was my trusty Padawan.
I remembered Google telling us that the second step to dislodging the crayon (or pom-pom) is to blow. So, I handed this girl a Kleenex and told her to start blowing like she wanted her brain to come right out nose. We blew and blew and blew some more.
I used my trusty handy-dandy pocket flashlight to see where that pom-pom was, and it was Right. There. But, when I used the tweezers (which was the first step), that pom-pom would pull a disappearing act. Birthing that pom-pom was proving to be more difficult that the great crayon debacle.
She started blowing like an elephant, when we suddenly heard a pop.
I was worried I was going to see her eyeballs. Or worse her brains.
Instead I saw that nasty, pesky orange pom-pom.
I gave her a big hug and told her this time she was lucky. The next time she put anything in her nose, it just might go all the way to her brain. So she needed to keep everything out of her nose. Including her finger.
Can you say Therapy?
This is why getting your own personal testimony of Google is essential. You never know when you'll have to get a pom-pom out of a First Graders nose.