Green Beads

I have three children, I'm sure I've mentioned them before. My oldest, and only son, is the Scientist. My middle child, and oldest daughter, is the Artist. And that leaves the youngest girl, the Diva.

My ebola has cleared up, some, but Diva is still a little snotty-in-the-nose. While on a family outting yesterday, in a vain attempt to purchase even more furniture for the house that really does seem too big, we had this exchange:

"I need a tissue."

"I don't have any on me. When we get there we'll go to restroom and wipe your nose."

"I have green in my nose."

"I know, honey."

"It's green."

I sigh, the van finally stops, and I hop out to see what the fuss is about. Diva's nose is running, but it's definately not green (thank goodness).

"Tip your head up, let me see."

"No!"

"Let me see your nose."

Finally, she does, and I stare in mute horror.

"What?" my husband asks.

"Not green; bead. She has a bead in her nose!"

...

I guess it doesn't need saying that we did not go shopping, but instead went straight to urgent care.

The bead was not green. We'll be studying our colors this week.