Saturday, March 28, 2009

Long Live the Ninny


Remember my blog post last year about Ninny's? Maybe not. I wouldn't expect you to. When Abby was little (learning how to talk stage), she would have those little raisin boxes for snack time. For some reason she called them Ninny's. It stuck. Raisin Bran was called Ninny Bran, Ninny Toast, Ninny bagels. Along came Aidan, and well.... raisins are Ninny's to him too.

The kids were supposed to get pictures today at 4pm. The place calls me around 2 and cancels... so my one big outing for the day was kaput. Dreary rainy Saturday with two kids on the mend from the previous week's illnesses... 3:20ish rolls around and the kids are snacking on Yogurt Covered Ninny's. I am RIGHT THERE when my son has one in his hand, we are both looking at it, and low and behold he pulls a houdini. The next thing I know he is pointing to his nose saying owie Mama. What just happened? I cannot fathom. Certainly no child of mine would stick a foreign object up their nose. Yeah, well it was up there- and up there good. So good that I caught a glimpse of it one minute and it was gone the next. I have Abby change out of her princess fashion ensemble, get Aidan out of his jammies (I never changed his clothes today) and pack them up for urgent care. I call Rick at work, tell him I am taking his son to urgent care and why- and he starts laughing. Laughing. The good thing about going to urgent care so late on a Saturday: no lines and Grandma works weekends. We get right in, the dr. checks his lungs and ears since he's been sick. She still hears wheezing (sigh). She gets to his nose, and says she sees it and can get it with forceps. I brace his head, she tells Rick he needs to hold him down too. Thankfully she got it. The yogurt was all melted off. Yum. And, bless her heart she asked me if I wanted to keep it for his baby book. I love a woman who thinks like I do. I declined in case you are wondering, however, I would have taken a picture had I not broken my camera lens.

There you have it. I remain ill-equipped to be raising a boy.

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