Every family has one.
The child who sticks beads up her nose.
In our family, the child looks like this:
Of course, she always has a good reason. In this instance, she wanted a nose ring.
You know, like the one Jasmine has in the Disney makeup tutorial I let her watch 50 times a day?
Which made a lot of sense until I went back and watched that video (while simultaneously criticizing myself for being the kind of mother who allows my 5 year old to watch such junk), and realized that Jasmine doesn’t have a nose ring — nor does any other Disney princess.
So, either she was referring to the Goth makeup tutorial that was recommended to her in the “Related Video” section on YouTube or she just wanted to stick a bead up her nose to see what would happen.
Either way, I still have no idea exactly why she would stick a bead up her nose.
Perhaps, she’s just curious. Perhaps that’s also why she swallowed a penny when she was 4 or why she cut off own hair when she was 3.
Marry her natural curiosity and stubborness with her Israel upbringing, and you got a start-up superstar in the making.
But she also possesses a virtue most entrepreneurs could use a little more of.
When she realized last night that the bead was good and gone far up her nostril and no 5 year old digging was going to get that sucker out, what did she do?
She asked for help.
“HELP! There’s a charuz stuck in my nose!” she cried to anyone who would listen. Charuz is the Hebrew word for bead. (Guess who was the one who figured out what she was saying? Score one for the immigrant mother.)
My husband, two sons, and I all gathered around to her to evaluate the situation.
You could see she was scared and wished she had never stuck that bead in her nose in the first place.
But she didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She just listened.
First my husband looked inside. “I can see the bead,” he told us, silently thanking God for small favors.
“Hold the other side of your nose, and blow,” I told her.
She had never done this before. It was new to her. Up until now, as much as we’ve tried to teach her how to blow her nose, she’s only been able to sniff in.
She gave it careful consideration, as all four of us showed her how to blow out our own noses, instead of sniffing in.
My husband held her other nostril, and then instructed her, “Now blow!”
She looked at us, seeking our backing and support.
We all smiled expectantly.
Truthfully, what I expected was a trip to the emergency room.
But, she did it!
She blew the sucker out on the first try!
A snotty, but glittery pink bead flew at G-force speed across the room.
We all cheered and danced around her. Siman tov uh Mazal tov!
We kissed her. We hugged her. We congratulated her.
And of course, we listed off again all the appropriate and inappropriate things for inside one’s nose, mouth, or any other orifice. And we emphasized that beads don’t belong in any of them.
For now, at least.
After the incident had passed, and relief had washed over all of us, my daughter came up to me and said, “I was so brave, wasn’t I?”
I hugged her, and agreed. “Yes, you were very brave.”
“You know what was really brave?” I asked her.
“What?” she said.
“Asking for help. Sometimes that’s the scariest thing for someone to do.”
“You’re right, Mommy,” she replied, not necessarily because she agrees, but because in addition to being curious and humble, she is also wise.
She knows that next to “I love you” and “You’re pretty,” “You’re right” is the answer mommies love most.