There are some things...

...that nothing prepares you for when you're raising kids.

This past weekend, we went out to my folks' and spent the whole weekend there.  Our reasoning was two-fold: one, the Fries had visitation with their biological father, and my parents' home is as good a place as any for these supervised visits.  Two, Gramma and Boppa had just returned from two and a half weeks visiting their grandsons over in Europe, and they were suffering both jetlag and severe granddaughter withdrawal.

Friday night and Saturday developed in an unexpected way, with Large Fry adding a 24-hour stomach bug to her case of strep and sending us to Urgent Care just to be safe.  And then Small Fry developed a drippy nose that constantly needed to be wiped.  But by Sunday, both Large and Small were well enough that we all went to church, and then went to Old Country Buffet for dinner, before Mom and Dad had to leave for a Gaither concert in Lancaster.

We're getting ready to leave when Small Fry is making giggling circles around our table and happily crashes into me.  As she looks up at me, I see that we have a booger situation.

Since Small has not yet really mastered the whole blowing-into-a-tissue thing, I take point on this one.  As I am performing a booger-ectomy, I see something else that looks odd inside her nose.

And it's moving as she inhales and exhales.

And I can't quite reach it.

But I do know it looks pink.

Hubby sighs and says, "Can't we do that outside?  People are eating here."

The location of our unknown-nasal-thing-ectomy moves to the van.  I sit Small Fry on the front passenger seat, tip her head back, and peer up her right nostril.  Yep, it's still there.  It's still pink.  And I can't reach it, because she's inhaling!

I reposition the paper napkin in my right hand.  "Blow out your nose, like this," I tell her, and demonstrate.

Surprisingly, she does.

And it pushes the unknown-nasal-thing into reach.

Success!  I'm able to grab onto it!

I tug gently, because, after all, it looks pink and I'm honestly a little scared that this might somehow be a fleshy and attached UNT.

And I keep tugging.

And now I'm able to easily pull.

And it's not pink.

It's orange.

ORANGE.

And rubber.  Did I mention that?  Rubber.

And distinctly...well...shaped.

Silly-band shaped.

I have no idea what it was.  I do know it's been in her sinus cavity long enough that the silly band has degraded a bit.  Hubby and I look at it in mute shock.  Hubby recovers first.

"Small Fry!" he says.  "Did you stuff a silly band up your nose?"

"Uh-huh."  She nods.

I'm amazed she admitted that, and amazed that she managed to inhale one of these suckers in the first place.

"Don't put silly bands up your nose again!" Hubby chides sternly.

We buckle the kids into their car seats and drive back to Mom and Dad's to pack up our stuff and head for home.  Hubby and I look at each other, barely contained amusement evident in both our expressions.  I send a text to my parents...and wait for the reaction.

You thought the story was over, didn't you?

We pull into the driveway to see Dad behind the wheel waiting for Mom; they'd decided to stop at the house before heading to the concert.  When Mom comes out, I ask if she got my text.  She shakes her head.

Well.  That explains the lack of response.

I quickly explain what happened, and she tries to hold her chuckles.  "Which nostril?" she asked.

"The right."

"Is that the one that was drippy?"

"Yup."

"Well, now we know why her nose was dripping!"

Indeed.