Today, BB kept asking me, "Mommy, how many penguins do you have?" Bewildered, I kept trying to get her to clarify what she meant. "Penguins? Why would I have penguins?" After five minutes or so of going round and around, I realized what she was really asking:
"Mommy, how many patience do you have?"
As you might have guessed, Mommy didn't have a whole lot of penguins left at that particular moment. (Whenever your kids start asking you about your level of patience, it's a pretty good clue that your patience levels are low to nonexistent.) In fact, I felt as though the entire parcel had swum away. (Or perhaps been picked up by the post and mailed to another country -- I didn't know until today that the collective noun was a parcel of penguins, but it fits.)
Why so impatient, you ask? Well, among other things, BJ decided to use the last 5 minutes of his rest time dismantling one of these -- with his teeth -- and in the process he swallowed a piece of plastic from the bottom of the toy. Ah, cheap plastic party favors made in China, how I despise thee.
Aren't kids supposed to get past that "I'm gonna try to swallow everthing" stage by the time they are two days away from going to KINDERGARTEN? For heavens sakes???
And yet there he was, coming out of his rest time, pink "flute" in hand, explaining how he'd managed to swallow part of it. And telling me, in an increasingly panicky tone of voice, that he still felt it in his throat.
After a phone consultation with the Kaiser advice nurse (how I heart the Kaiser advice nurse, general savior and soother of all my parental medical anxieties) we agreed that BJ didn't seem in imminent peril. She had me check for breathing issues, had him swallow several mouthfuls of water -- happily without any choking -- and scheduled an appointment for him tomorrow morning, just to be sure everything is OK. I hung up the phone with a list of things to look for (breathing difficulties, stomach pain, vomiting, trouble swallowing) and none of those things have appeared yet.
But I tell ya, it's enough to scare off any number of penguins. A whole freakin' huddle. (Yes, I do love me a good collective noun list.)
My hope for tomorrow?
And less time worrying about stuff my kids have swallowed.