My oldest daughter

recently reminded me of one of those past occurrences that end up in the

family memories hall of fame. What is it with kids putting things up their

noses anyway? We've all done this, right?

I've heard

of raisins, peas, and watermelon seeds. In fact, when I was little, tall

tales made the kid circuit about watermelon seeds sprouting vines that

grew out of ears and noses. I knew a boy growing up who put a pussy willow

up his nose.

If Dr. Seuss

had written a book called, "When I Grow Up, I Want To Be A Kid,"

right there on page one or two would have been the directive, "Step

one, stick something up your nose."

You have to

wonder about the thought process that leads up to sticking something up

your nose. Do they ask themselves right before they do it, "Hey,

I wonder what will happen if I stick this up my nose?" Or do they

do it first, then ask themselves after it's up there, "Hey, I wonder

what will happen if I can't get this out of my nose?" Who knows?!

With my children,

it wasn't plants or animals; it was beads. Two daughters, two noses, two

episodes, two beads. I got a call at work from the director of my oldest

daughter's preschool when she stuck a bead up her nose.

I could hear

her screaming in the background. They weren't touching her, mind you.

She was just getting ready in case they did.

So I told my

boss I had to go, "A bead, you see." "Go ahead," said

he.

I got there, the bead was out no need to worry, no need to pout. So home

we went; everything was okay. Imagine our surprise when we got there the

next day and read on the easel just as pretty as you may, "No beads

at school! No more, no way. A kid got a bead up her nose yesterday."

We thought

it was over, our bout with beads, until along came another daughter who

followed her lead. This one was 2, much littler, too, with the tiniest

nose, and she blew and blew. I laid her down on the floor and tried with

the tweezers. I could stand it no more; I just couldn't please her. So

we loaded up in the van, the four of us and the bead, and off to the ER,

this kid and her deed.

We saw the

giggles, the chuckles behind knuckles. We heard the laughter that jiggled

belt buckles. But patiently we waited to have the bead removed; and sure

enough, eventually, their prowess was proved.

First came

the nurse with lots of this and that, but one disturbing package she pulled

from a rack. In this package were instruments, long, hooked, and skinny.

My oldest two let out a saucer-eyed whinny. "What will they do with

that?!" the little one cried. I tried to ignore him; I tried and

I tried.

But thankfully

this story does have a happy ending, for in walked the doctor (not laughing,

but grinning). He said, "We will try this one thing I know. If it

works, then we're home free and off you'll go."

"What

is it?" I asked, hoping for a miracle. And to her, he said, "Little

lady, you're in a pickle." To me he said, "Close off the nostril

without the bead, cover her mouth and blow for me." I did as he said

when to my surprise, the bead shot out; my kids were all eyes.

When I blew

in her mouth with that one little puff, the bead came out, sure enough.

It shot out, to be truthful, hit the wall, then the floor. We picked up

our things and shot out the door.

The moral of

this story is stay away from beads, and plants, and bugs, and watermelon

seeds. And to all the kids out there who are starting to ponder about

things up their noses and other such wonders.

Do us a favor,

and don't, you see. Go ride your bike, read a book, watch TV. Anything

but sticking non-nose things up there; your story may not end up so fair.

[Amy Riley

is pursuing an advanced degree in education and writing occasional columns

for The Citizen. Reach her via e-mail: [email protected].