"I Put Trash in My Nose!"

Dear Son doesn't like to miss anything. I reason that this is why he refuses to nap and why he wants to jump out of bed in the morning at the first notice of the sun peeking through the blinds. When Dear Daughter was this age, she would sleep happily away in her bed until 9:00 or even 9:30 each morning. She had not even figured out that she could get out bed by herself until she was nearly four years old. She would lounge in bed when she woke up and call out, "Mommy! I'm awake!" and I would have to come in and move the pillows and larger than life stuffed duck from the open side of her bed before she would climb out.

It doesn't matter to Dear Son that it is Saturday morning; if the sun is up, he wants to be up as well. True to form, this morning he jumped out of bed with the sun and wandered into the living room to turn on the television until the rest of the household decided to get up as well. Dear Husband was up next, and even though it was only 8:00 when I wandered into the living room to see if I was missing out on anything good (I wasn't), Dear Husband was just pulling out of the driveway with the 1967 Chevy pickup to go get some mulch for the yard. Dear Son was chomping on something and watching Sponge Bob, and he informed me rather nonchalantly at this point that there had been some "trash" on the ottoman, and that he had stuck it in his nose. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I wondered if it had anything to do with the screaming and crying I heard just a bit earlier, and which had awakened me from my slumber. I inquired a bit further for more explanation from Dear Son, but I didn't get anything new out of him. I decided that whatever the issue was, it must be over now, and I went about my usual morning business.

Dear Son followed me around still chomping on something, and I finally asked him what he was chewing on. "Gum!" he said with a grin, and then asked for a tissue. I noticed his nose seemed a bit red and drippy and I wondered if he was getting a cold or if he had some allergies the way his big sister does. I handed him a tissue and heard him sneeze a couple times and didn't think anything more about it.

I wandered to the kitchen, with Son following me close like a shadow, and cooked us a couple eggs while Dear Daughter continued to snooze in full ignorance to the rest of the household beginning their day. I sat by Son at the kitchen table, and we munched our toast together in silence until Son asked for a "wipe" for his nose. I handed him a napkin, and he snorted and sneezed and blew. I was focused on my egg and thinking about the chickens Dear Husband has promised me but that we haven't gotten yet. He says he needs to build a coop first and he doesn't seem to be too eager to get on that task.

Dear Son made another reference to the "trash" that was on the ottoman that he said he shoved up his nose and he giggled as he said that now he could "feel" it! That got my attention, and I'm pretty sure I asked with no small intensity in my voice what in the world he was talking about. He grinned and pointed to his nose and showed me how he could touch his nostril and feel it. I bent my head down to look into his nostril, and sure enough I saw something poking out of it. The pieces of the past 30 minutes began falling into place. "WHAT is in your nose?!!!!" I exclaimed with considerable concern and urgency in my voice. "Daddy said that it wasn't in there. He said he couldn't see it." I wasn't satisfied with this response as there most certainly WAS something in there! I was able to grasp just enough of the corner of whatever it was and yank it out of his right nostril. An entire Trident gum wrapper emerged, coated in snot.

"How in the world did a gum wrapper get up your nose?" I asked incredulously. "I put it up there," Dear Son casually replied, "and Daddy said it wasn't there anymore!"

What followed was the requisite speech about not putting objects up his nose--not even the "trash" on the ottoman. And then I quizzed Dear Husband good when he got home with his truck full of mulch. "I looked up in both sides of his nose, and I didn't see anything!" Dear Husband said in defense. "How could an entire Trident gum wrapper disappear up our son's nose?" I insisted.

Between Dear Son and Dear Husband, I never did get a satisfactory answer.