A bead in the nose and more camp fun
I’ve featured writer and colleague Dan Bain on GRIN before. His writing is dry, witty, cynical and really funny. He’s the guy you hope sits next to you when you’re stuck in the back of the auditorium at a mandatory PTA meeting. Or forced to go to remedial driving class so those points won’t go on your insurance. You get the point.
Below, an excerpt from his new book “A Nay for Effort” Lessons from the School of Life.
The only thing more traumatic than the first day of school is the first day of camp. Kindergarten offered experienced teachers and an established curriculum; camp offers teenagers and water sports. A little too “Friday the 13th” for my comfort level, but I’m sure my son will be fine if he lasts through lunchtime without incident.
My microwave pizza has 21 seconds left when the phone rings.
“Mr. Bain, your son has a bead stuck up his nose.”
“I’m sorry–a bead?”
“For participation and character traits. Some kids put them on a string; yours put it up his nose. It’s a standard craft bead–9mm.”
“Like the gun?”
“Just the bullet.”
“I feel much better.”
“Don’t panic; this happens frequently.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“I drive like a bullet myself, park in the loading zone and sprint to the counselor’s office. She hands me a flashlight and says if I shine it straight up his nostril, I can see the offending bead.
“Which one?” I ask.
“Aquamarine. It’s for group swim.”
“No, no, no–which nostril?”
“Oh! The right.”
I shine, look and see nothing. Having tapped my medical expertise, we head for the pediatrician.
The doctor suggests several drops of antihistamine directly up the nose; my son looks at the dropper and protests that he hates having things like that shoved up his nostril. We revel in the irony for a moment before returning to the task at hand.