My Mother Hates Shells
Have you ever wondered what goes through the mind of a fantasy-princess-loving five year old? Well, after tons of research and personal experience, I have come up with one conclusion: I have no idea. There was one specific moment in my life for which I question my mental capacity to this very day – my mother questions it as well. When I was five, I lived in Hamilton, New Zealand. I was a very social person – I loved talking to people so much that I attended two kindergartens in one day. Just as I am now, I was a very artistic and imaginative child – I would draw and paint on EVERYTHING.
On this particular day, the teacher gave us an art assignment. It was the classic art assignment: making a face out of macaroni shells! My teacher not only gave us macaroni shells, but also small pebbles, sea shells, and flowers to decorate our faces. I was ecstatic. I kept gluing macaroni shells and pebbles everywhere; however, I had the most fascination with the small sea shells. Something about the shape and color of these shells made it so palpable and smooth. Even when the class was over, I couldn’t help holding the small shells in my hands. That’s when I had the most brilliant idea ever: I must take them home. This was where my conclusion is strongly supported. I don’t know if I wanted to steal them, but I felt like I only had one way to take them home with me: stuff them up my nose. Yes. You read correctly. Stuff them up my nose. I’m sure I had pockets, but I took the “artistic” way out. ‘
After class was over, my mother came to pick me up. During the drive, I didn’t want to mention that I stole the small shells – stealing is wrong. Despite my strong-will to keep it within, I felt strange as we got closer to our house. My mom asked if I was okay, but I brushed it off, telling her I had a “bad” day. She then started cooking food. I had such weird feelings in my stomach; I felt like I had a huge nose block – like the ones that clog both nostrils. Those are the worst! I started making really weird faces, and my mom got the hint: something was wrong. She noticed that I had a hard time breathing, so she took a look up my nose. She noticed small stone-like shapes shoved deep into my nostrils. Her initial reaction: stick her fingers up my nose to get them out. But that only dug them in deeper.
She panicked. She decided to rush me to the emergency room, where the doctor immediately took me in. He took a small needle and shoved it up my nose. Slowly but surely, one by one, each shell came out of my nose. My mom stared at me. Her mind thinking: seriously? Shells? The doctor secretly seemed amused, but he had to maintain his cool. I told my mother that I really wanted to keep the shells. She told me that I could get shells anywhere else – New Zealand is an island. That day, I worried my mom to such an extent that she laughs and grieves whenever she sees shells. This experience still confuses me today. Why up my nose? I guess you can never really understand the minds of five year olds.
