Lastnight, I was summoned to use what I can only describe as my specialized parental skillset. My four year old son, Jack decided that the best place for a smallish wad of unused play-doh was in his right nostril, way up his right nostril. His father attempted an unsuccessful clay extraction, fruitless.
"Mom", Jack came over and almost whispered, "I still have play-doh up my nose.." The look on his face was a sad mixture of embarassment and concern. I harkened back to my darkest years, pre-adolescence, it was our only real option. "Ok, buddy...the best thing to do is put your finger on the other side of your nose and blow like you have never blown before."
He gave me an unsure, but desperate look, a look that pretty much said, "My options are limited."
In a mere moment, I held in my hand, an orange, pea-sized hunk of play-doh, bathed in a copius amount of mucus. Sweet success!