My Grandma Liles must be laughing.

My Grandma Liles, who passed away three years ago, had three children spaced just like mine: a boy who was 3 when boy/girl twins came along. I think about her often while managing day to day life now, and wish for her advice or at least her accounts of what it was like for her. (I know I have the advantage of an easily foldable double stroller and double-seated carts at Sam's Club.)



In my eyes, she was pretty easy going and loved a good joke. Boy did she pull one on me last night. Here and there throughout my life, I have heard the recounting of my Uncle Mike's frozen pea incident. When he was young (I don't remember how young) he shoved quite a few frozen peas up his nose. They couldn't get them out at home, and had to throw the three kids in the car and head for the emergency room. Well, last night, the kids and I were having a casual dinner when I looked over at Blake, Uncle Mike's counterpart, who had a little green ball shoved half way up his left nostril, a hazard of his sniffing habit from my earlier post I guess. My immediate thought? Grandma put him up to this.

I flicked that little booger out pretty easily and considered the crisis averted. I chuckled to myself and went back to dining. But, Blake kept rubbing his nose. He kept squinting his eyes and half gagging. I got a little worried and probably jumped to conclusions based on Mike's story.

Picture me with a flashlight trying to see up Blake's nose in search of lost peas. I'd like to point out that as a rule, I try to stay out of reach of the grubby self-feeding hands of twins because I don't particularly like having squished bits of vegetable soup and scrambled eggs in my hair. Thankfully, there were no more peas. Blake was just shaking it off I guess, like after a good sneeze. I'm sure Grandma had a good laugh just like she probably did when Mike's peas thawed and fell out on their own.