“Sweetheart, you’re going to have to help me out here because I can’t see it and I just don’t understand. How, exactly, did it get in there?”
This must be what it’s like to look down the barrel of a gun. Except that this is not a gun and looking down this barrel is about as inviting as a tomb sealed for centuries. Because I just know that cracking the seal is going to let something foul out and I am not particularly interested in seeing what’s inside.
But there is a marble inside my daughter.
“It hurts and I want it out!!!!!”
“Sweetheart, it’s okay. Things can go in and out of there without any problem. That doesn’t mean you should be putting ANYTHING in there, but I promise you’ll be fine.”
“What kind of things can go in there?”
When I planned on relaxing for Valentine’s Day, it did not involve my daughter’s (insert word that sounds repulsive and starts with “v”) nor did it involve a discussion about mine.
“NOT marbles. Little girls shouldn’t have marbles or anything else in there.”
Apparently neither should I, because as my friend Stephanie so bluntly pointed out, a crowbar might be necessary if it takes any longer to crack the safe.
“But you said things can go in there?”
“Things can go in there when you are bigger like Mommy.”
“Like what? Do you put things in there?”
I just know I am on some watch list somewhere. Because this is not the first time she’s landed us in an unusual spot, and I absolutely don’t want to have to explain how a marble got in there to the same emergency room technicians that stood dumbfounded while I explained how my daughter managed to give herself lacerations down there bouncing on a piece of furniture. At which point she started crying for her dead Daddy. Which is an effective and awkward way to stop all conversation, and leads to mumbled comments you really don’t care to deal with when a doctor is reassuring you that your daughter’s virtue has not been stolen by the couch, and you are reassuring them you had nothing to do with it.
And now this. I am fishing for marbles, and she is fishing for information about mine.
“Nope. There’s nothing going in there.”
“But what would you put in there?”
Something that fits just right. And it better not require batteries.