Ever wonder why?

Every parent goes through a phase when they are constantly being asked "why?".
You read about it in every parenting book.

But what those books never tell is that even though you will feel like you've been asked "why?" an infinite number of times during the toddler and preschool years, you will in fact ask that very same question many many more times yourself than your sweet little doe eyed child asks you.  Although usually it isn't in the form of "why?", it often looks more like "WHY?!?!"

Sometimes there are a bunch of random symbols that should be inserted with that question so it actually looks more like "WHY, $@^#**^!$, WHY?!?"
Hopefully that particular version of why doesn't happen often to you.

I've found myself asking that question a few times lately.  Just the "WHY?" though, no symbols involved.

For example, upon finding daughter #1's earrings and necklace in the entry table drawer that I use for coupon inserts:

And again when I realized that there was a ball of green clay in that same drawer.  And a Sherlock Holmes book.  Really?!  I know I told a child to put that book away days ago.  I guess I should be more specific than just saying "put this away".  Technically this is away from where it was.

I asked it when I found a big glob of peanut butter stuck to the wall.

But I only asked that in my head because I really didn't want to know.

The real kicker this week came with me actually shouting "WHY?!" a handful of times.  There may have been some funky symbols in my head when I was shouting that particular "why".

I was just minding my own business when I heard screaming coming from the hall bathroom.  Like freak out panicky screaming.
This is not usually a good sign.
Upon arriving at the bathroom I found the door locked.
Also not usually a good sign.
I'm pounding on the door yelling "What is wrong?!  Open the door!", while Lincoln is on the other side of the locked door and I hear "I'm gushing blood!!" mingled in with the screams and crying.

Awesome.

I realize that he's in enough of a fit that I'm going to need to open the door so I pick the lock.
I find him with a towel (a nice hangs in the bathroom and kids don't use it towel of course) up to his face.  He pulls it away and I see that his face is covered in blood.  As is his shirt.  Oh and it's splattered down his pants too.  And on the bathroom rug.  And a little on the towel too.

I've been debating changing the rug and towels in the bathroom for the past two months.  Guess that's been decided!

Still trying to get my child settled down enough to discover the root cause of the blood pouring from his face, I finally get him calm enough to tell me that he put "a green thing" in his nose and that it hurt so bad.
Huh?
A peek up his nose reveals a flash of bright green, and I finally get him to elaborate a tad, that it came off "the sticky ball".  My head is swimming as I head off to grab a flashlight, my trusty tweezers, and-of course-the camera.

Thankfully this is the child that has great self control.
Yes, I realize the ridiculous irony in that statement at this moment.
But when I look him in the eye and tell him "I really need you to settle down NOW and hold VERY still", he complies.

I really don't know how he got it up there.  It was hard to get out.  And it was waaaaay up there.  His poor body was sneezing frequently trying to help dislodge it, and thankfully between the sneezing and him holding still enough for me to get tweezers up to the very tip top of his nostril I was able to pull it out.

So what was it?  About 30 seconds in I figured it out.
A ball surrounded with suction discs that came as part of a game where you throw it at hard surface catching discs and it sticks.

You'll notice it's missing a green disc now.

For size comparison, here is what I pulled out of his nose.

Nice.

I showed great restraint in not taking a photo of the object in his nose.  He really was pretty bloody and it was slightly disturbing.  Part of me is kicking myself for that because one day one of his kids is going to stick something up their nose.  At that point  I will wish I had a photo of him covered in blood laying on a bathroom floor that is also covered in blood so I could hand that photo to him and silently walk away.

When all was said and done, and cleaned up and calmed down, I finally got to sit with him and ask that great baffling question.
"Why?  Why in the world did you put that up your nose?"
I received the classic answer.
"I don't know."

But the good news is that getting a dime sized suction disc out of a little nose is much easier than getting a styrofoam peanut out of a little nose.  Those suckers just keep breaking off instead of sliding out.  Although that situation was definitely much less bloody.
And it's still much less gross than when Dallin almost cut his nose off his face.