If The Shoe Fits...

Suddenly, Christie let out her patented hysterical cry.

I'm sitting in the chair in Amy's room putting her to bed. She's curled up on my shoulder, half asleep and cuddling in. I hear Christie crying, then hear her come down the hall, stand outside the door, then go back to her room. I sigh and think that the computer must have crashed on her again. Yes, she actually cries that hard when that happens.

Lisa's at yoga, so I know I'll have to deal with it, but I'll wait at least until I can put Amy in the crib. A few minutes pass...Christie is still crying hard. Maybe I'd better check. Amy's not too hard to get back down to sleep these days, so I pick her up and head to Christie's room.

The first thing I see is Christie still playing on the computer. Why hasn't the computer crashed?

"Christie, what's wrong?" I ask, somewhat skeptically. This isn't the first time she's gone absolutely ballistic for the smallest reason, nor would it be the last time.

She turns to me, tears streaming down, and with a spot of blood around her right nostril. Sobbing, she cries, "There's a Polly Pocket shoe stuck in my nose!"

Shock. Disbelief. Did my daughter actually say that? I couldn't have heard that right.

"Sweetie...what?"

"I put a Polly Pocket shoe in my nose, and I can't get it out!!!"

Right. I'm still not sure I believe this yet, but she has some blood on her nose. How could this be possible? She can still breathe obviously, so that's not an issue. How the heck do I approach this? I put Amy down and she immediately runs for the toybox.

"Okay, can you feel it up there?" I ask Christie.

"Yes."

I start pressing on the outside of her nose. I can't really feel anything. I grab a box of kleenex and put one to her nose.

"Okay, blow."

Christie blows her nose. Standard kid snot. No shoe. Is this really...is this for real?

Grabbing a flashlight, I tell her to look up at the ceiling and shine the light up her nose. Sure enough, very far up her nose and just visible, lies a piece of plastic.

Guilt and panic hit me like a train. Oh. My. God. There's a toy up her nose. There's actually a flipping toy up her nose! I didn't believe her. I...How in the hell am I going to get this out? We have to go to the ER...NOW!!!

OK...calm down...she's hysterical. She doesn't need you losing it too. I claw myself back from the edge of panic. "Christie," I say, "I'm going to go get some tweezers so we can try to get it out, ok?" Christie sobs, nods her head, and sniffles. Great. She better not have sucked it in further.

I find the smallest pair of tweezers we have, which aren't that small at all, and head back in. Calming Christie down, I tell her to put her head back and I start to reach into her nostril. I barely touch anything when suddenly, she's hysterically screaming, her nostrils narrowing as she yells. Meanwhile, Amy starts wandering around the room and grabbing kleenex.

Alright, stay calm. Let's give Lisa a quick call so I can let her know what's happening and to meet us at the ER if needed. I dial the cell phone number. No answer. She must still be working out. OK...deep breath...calm...let's try to go after it again.

"Christie, I'm gonna need you to be brave, ok?" Christie nods her head. "I need to get up there to grab it, all right?"

Amy starts to cry. She's tired, unhappy about not finishing her bedtime routine.

"OK, Christie, here we go." I insert the tweezers in. Christie starts screaming, not really out of pain but out of fear. "Stay brave, sweetie! Stay brave!" I say as I move the tweezers up. Amy keeps crying. I realize that I've inserted the tweezers as far as I can while still being somewhat non-invasive. But I'm not even close to reaching the shoe. I pull out.

Panic starts to well up again. I don't think I can get it. Now what do I do? I hand Christie more kleenex and tell her to blow her nose.

Amy starts grabbing toys.

Christie blows. I look in the kleenex. Nothing. The trip to the hospital seems much more certain now. I'd better try Lisa again.

No answer.

Amy starts crying again.

Christie is sobbing.

All right...third time's the charm, right? One more try. I steel myself to insert the tweezers even further and brace myself for the howls and screams that will come out of this child. I put the tweezers up, farther than before. Christie goes into hysterics. I can't get it. Amy pulls out even more kleenex and throws it around the room.

It's inevitable. We need to go to the ER. I need to get everyone changed. Christie will be petrified, but there's no way around this. But maybe one more try?

I grab some of the myriad of kleenex strewn on Christie's bed courtesy of Amy and hold it to Christie's nose. "OK, Christie. I need you to blow hard. Really, really hard, OK?"

Christie nods and blows hard into the kleenex. And suddenly, magically, miraculously, a pink plastic shoe appears in the kleenex.

We got it. Oh my Lord...we got it out!

Relief washes over me as I stare at this shoe that was formerly nestled close to, if not in, my daughter's sinus cavity. Tears are still streaming down Christie's cheeks as I suddenly and uncontrollably start giggling. Then laughing. I mean really...think about it: my daughter shoved a toy up her nose. It's funny.

Christie looks at me, and she starts smiling. Her stress level visibly comes down at seeing me laugh. Realizing the time is finally right, I ask "Christie, why did you put the shoe up your nose?"

"I wanted to see if it would fit."

Well, so much for putting her in the advanced classes.