Frogs and Boogers: A Recipe for Disaster

THING TWO!! Get your finger out of your…NOOOO! Don’t EAT it! EEEWWWW!! GROSS!

Boogers are delicious, Mummy.

The early autumn sun reflected on the golden strands of Thing Two’s hair. Her cheeks were as rosy as apples. She was tanned from spending every day of the summer months playing outside with her brother and their friends, catching frogs, fish, snails and other creatures in the nearby rice and lotus root fields. She towered above the other students in her class as they made their way back to school following a trip to the park. I smiled as she laughed. She was the picture of health.

Just as I was having these thoughts, her finger went straight up her nose and then quickly into her mouth. This bad habit occurs so frequently these days that I’ve taken to calling her nostrils “finger pockets”.

It’s a horrible habit and I have not been able to break her of it. No amount of threats to take her to the doctor to have her fingers removed, her nostrils sewn shut or have tissues stapled to her face has been effective.

She’s five. Boogers are apparently delicious. Working in a daycare, and having once been five years old myself, I know she’s not alone.

My hope is that someday she’ll grow out of it. Most of us do.

Mummy? Where should I put this frog?

Eeeek! In the GARDEN! Do NOT bring the things you catch into the HOUSE! Put it outside and then go and wash your hands!!!

Thing Two is not scared of bugs and other slimy creatures. We have a veritable menagerie of relocated creatures currently residing in the sanctuary of our garden. So I was not overly surprised when her teacher approached me with a tale to tell of the morning’s adventures.

Jodi Sensei! Thing Two is so strong! Today she caught a frog and she wasn’t scared! I was so surprised!

I smiled and laughed as her teacher regaled me with the amazing story of Thing Two’s epic frog adventure.

All I could think as I listened to the teacher’s tale was, “I hope she washed her hands.”

Awww what a cute little bundle of germs. The frog, I mean.

Rounding the corner of the office, I spied a pair of long tanned legs stretched out on a cot. As I got closer, the bright pink shorts of Thing Two appeared.

What the- !? What happened!?

She has a fever and she says her tummy hurts.

Laying on the cot was a sad and pale version of my little girl. Her eyes, as round as dinner plates, filled with tears. Drops of sweat glistened on her pale forehead and two bright red patches glowed on her cheeks.

Where was the picture of health I had watched coming back from the park only two hours ago?

And so began the next 24 hours of rising fever, dry heaving and crying. I found myself repeatedly checking the expiration date on the medicine. It simply was not working.

What was causing this?

Collapsing onto the couch in exhaustion after finally getting Thing Two settled into a restless sleep. The fever had reached a peak of 39°C and showed no signs of abating.

This had come out of nowhere and had come fast.

*PING*

A new message appeared on my phone. It was a photo of Thing Two holding the frog that she had so bravely caught at the park today …. the frog.

THE FROG!

As cute as the little green monsters are, Dr. Google seems fairly insistent that hand washing is imperative following any sort of handling of frogs and turtles.

I mentally calculated the length of time it would have taken Thing Two to get from the park to the school and how many times her fingers went up her nose in that 10 minutes.

I estimated that Thing Two likely ingested the equivalent of a 12-course meal.

Feeling fairly confident my child wasn’t going to die in the night, I steeled myself for what was to come. What goes in, must come out. All the joys of parenthood were about to slap me in the face simultaneously it seemed.

Mummy? My tummy hurts. I don’t feel good. Can I sleep with you?

So began a very long night of laying wide awake attuned to every restless twitch, and silently panicking over the oven-like heat emanating from her tiny body.

Hey Baby Girl…how’re you feeling?

Not so good Mummy.

Do you know why this happened?

Yeh…Daddy told me. I should have washed my hands. Oh! And I’m gonna just pick my nose now. I’m not gonna eat it. I’ll just wipe it on a tissue.

Well, thank you Kermit for the life lesson. Silver linings and whatnot…