A Confession

Hi, I'm Jenn and I write about Andrew.

If that bothers you in the least, you should perhaps move along from this post. Because as Paul McCartney said sang it "What's wrong with that? I'd like to know, 'cause here I go again*."

Before launching into his cuteness once again, I need to announce that this will be my last something to say for a few days. I'm leaving on a jet plane* this afternoon for a weekend in Austria.

A weekend by myself.

Well, by myself, with a girlfriend.

We have been talking about this trip for months, and finally found a way to make it all come together*. Among other things, such as taking a million photographs, I will be visiting a doctor in her hometown to talk about, ahem, woman things, and my headaches. I will of course be sharing all the fun and adventure with you, my friends, when I return next week. Which reminds me, I haven't yet shared much about the Milan trip either. I will do that too. Not now, soon.

And so, onward we go with the Andrew anecdote. In case you are hankering for more, The Blog Exchange post about, you guessed it, Andrew is here for your reading and commenting pleasure.

But wait! Before we dive in, please indulge me another link or two (I'll be gone 3 days... you can spare some time to read these, right?) First, my Emma has a new story posted at her site. It is a kid adventure which is out of this world. Pop over there, you'll see what I mean.

Secondly, and speaking of out of this worldliness, please join me in welcoming my offline friend into the online world. Supporter and commenter extraordinaire, she has become a blogspot author in her own right. Tagged as Fourier Analyst she has her template up and running. It's only a beginning, but it is certainly the start of something fresh and meaningful.

And now, stalling be done! Here is the story I want to share.

Written last Thursday, I posted it at my family website and dedicated the story to my sister-in-law who had the propensity to do the same when she was small.

Little
Things

I am busy all morning cleaning the house, getting ready for some weekend company--two friends from Don's program in Leiden last year--who arrive tomorrow. I have an eye on Andrew, but I am not exactly with him for a good portion of the morning. While I am bustling around getting the work done, he is sitting on the living room carpet happily playing with a board and peg game. The pegs are tiny, colorful little things. More like little beads with a stem. They are just the right size for him to pick up in his pudgy fingers. He carefully places them into the slots of the board. He is making art in its finest form.
These pegs are just right for these little holes.
And somehow it follows that these pegs are just right for some other little holes....

You know what is coming next right?

I am standing at the pantry door, having just emerged from sorting the chaos within when Andrew approaches and says "Mom, I need you to get this outta my nose".

I miss the first pass and ask him to repeat what he just said. Halfway through the second utterance it dawns. Hits just like a lead balloon. Crap! He's put a peg up his nose.

I squat down next to him and look.

Yes. Green peg, left nostril.

Again, crap!

I am keenly aware I can't reach up into the nostril to chase the tiny piece of plastic as I don't want to lodge it further inside the nasal cave. I look carefully and analyze the problem at hand. All the while I am assessing this peg-in-nose situation I am repeating in my mind the number for the emergency services. (112) Also, I am reminding myself that the house doctor is literally around the corner and we can be there in less than 3 minutes.

All of that processing takes about 2.5 seconds. About the same amount of time it takes me to apply some finger pressure to the outside of his nose and expel the irritant.

I breathe.

He breathes.

I hug him tight.

He looks at me and says "Whew!"

I put the peg game up high.

*sometimes there is a song in my head, quite often it's an entire radio station.