I know that the people who read this weblog are mamas, but I would like all the toddlers to come to the screens please. This is Gummy writing. My mom is on the couch with her “I don’t give a flying soba noodle” look and a glass of red wine in her hand. I’m not sure why.
So, fellow toddlers, it’s time to stretch your attention span and reading capacity for this brief PSA, which I can summarize by the following:
DO NOT PUT OBJECTS IN YOUR EARS. I have tried it, and it is no good. No good at all.
If you’ve got some really interesting pine cone or rock you simply must go fondle, or if a strange noise coming from outside is a dead ringer for a digger, or better yet, if you’ve just been given the all clear to have your way with a humongous cardboard box, you can just stop reading this PSA right now. The most important has already been said. But if you want the entire story, keep reading.
When I beg you not to put objects in your ears, it is not to prevent you from having some good fun. I am always first in line for good fun, which is exactly what I was going for yesterday morning while my mom was not playing with me (how dare she), but instead was in the kitchen making me breakfast (that I had repeatedly told her I was NOT interested in eating). My grand-maman gave me a sweet little lady bug bracelet for Christmas. Curiously, when I pulled it while sitting on my upstairs potty, it broke and all the beads escaped on the floor. My mom, seeing me dissolve in tears, gave me a hug and labeled my feeling as disappointment. She gathered all the beads and put them in a small glass jar (what is her obsession with glass all about anyway?). Yesterday morning, I got the jar open, and as I had done several times before, I scattered the beads all over the wood floor. I think it made my mom grunt, but she persisted in making me breakfast. (she’s really dense, sometimes).
I picked up one of the beads and wondered what it would feel like if I put it in my left ear. So, I tried it. Then I wanted it out. I told my mom, which made her stop breakfast preparations and come over right away. Bingo! She tried to take it out with prickly tweezers. I would have none of it.
During nap time, she woke me up and got me dressed. She said we were going to see Dr. Wormbog to get the bead out. I like Dr. Wormbog a lot. She gave me stickers and let me hold my tiny barn owl. It was an awful visit though. She showed me these colourful sticks which she inserted in my left ear to try and remove the bead. I would have none of it.
My mom drove us to a different town, because she said she didn’t like the ER in our city. Why? (do you know how powerful that three letter word is? I thought no was the shit, but ‘why’ is my new fave). Something about almost hemorrhaging to death after I was born. Whatevs. She subjected me to an irksome 30-minute drive in my f@#%ing car seat to go to this other hospital. At least once we got there, we were put in a room with a cool bed and lots of interesting things I don’t have words for.
Now, be weary of nurses who suggest that they will ‘wrap you up’. When my mom says it after bath, it portends this warm moment between the two of us where she dries and hugs me at the same time. In this case, it meant torture! I got rolled up in a sheet like a small burrito so that the nurses could have me pinned down while the doctor tried to take the bead out of my ear. Even if my mom held me lovingly and sang me songs I like, I still cried and wailed bloody murder. I mean, who do they think they are to restrain me in such a way? Do they not know I’m 2? I left with the bead still in my ear. But not before I chucked my water bottle and it rolled under the curtain, and into a patient’s room who had several “precautions” signs posted on her curtain. My mom had to ask a nurse to get my bottle and she wouldn’t let me drink out of it again. I found that incident curious, and talked about it all day at my dad’s house.
Today, instead of napping, we went to another hospital. Back in my stupid car seat I went. Having learned from my past experiences, I screeched my very loudest, which caused my dad to freak out and give me my googie* (Well played, Gummy. Well played). This hospital was very interesting. A volunteer gave me juice. There was a little girl who was holding her arm, and crying loudly. I wanted to share my giraffe with her, but I was too scared she would kick me. My mom, my dad and I were assigned a bed in the emergency department. Pretty soon, a doctor with a head lamp contraption asked us to come into the ENT room. My mom held me close, and the doctor looked in my ear. I was doing a very good job of squirming and resisting. He quickly lectured me about the need to stay still so he could see and remove the bead. He reminded me that if I stayed still now, he could remove the bead promptly, instead of having to use “other measures” to remove it. I didn’t give three ships about his moralizing tone, but after my mom and dad held me really tightly, and he did some precise digging, and the bead was out! I cried, got my googie again, and some hugs and kisses from my mom.
I got to have a tiny donut after that. Then we went home. We had seaweed snacks in the car. I removed my boots and socks. And my mom took my winter coat off so that my car seat wasn’t excruciatingly uncomfortable.
I wonder what would happen if i put one of the beads up my nose? Maybe I’ll try that next week when my mom goes back to work.