So, my baby boy decided to put ham up both of his nostrils one day when he was 3 1/2 years old. Yesireebob, he did. He laughed his head off even though I was fuming. I told him to blow air out his nose hoping that would do the trick. It worked for one, but not the other. I told him to stay put and not move a muscle while I went to get the tweezers. I know, I know, not wise to put sharp objects near a child’s brain when you have no medical training whatsoever. Seriously, though, I have watched a lot of medical shows and I have a few friends who are doctors. Surely that has to count for something. As I return, with tweezers in hand, I tell him to lay still. He then realizes the seriousness of all of this and then begins to apologize profusely. “I sorry, momma. I sorry, momma.” I began with surgeon-like hands to remove the bits of lunch meat from my son’s nasal cavity. It wasn’t good enough because it was too dark in there. I run to get the flashlight and tell him to lay still again. He actually obeyed. And he was actually still. With flashlight in hand, I see into his nose and am able to get more pieces of ham out of his nostril. How much ham did he put in there? A lot. So much so that when he gave one final blow, ham the size of a small jaw breaker shot out of his nostril and landed on his shirt. He could breathe again. I could breathe again. Dear Lord, please help me keep this child alive. Amen.