So, there we were, just enjoying a family meal, from none other that the famous McDonald's fast food chain, when little 'ol Brad stopped chewing the nugget he so loved, and just starred, at each of us.
"Oh, geez!" Roberto stated, realizing Brad was choking. Choking on the possibly too quickly eaten, not chewed enough, kid's meal chicken McNugget.
In that instant, we all panicked along with Brad. Scared. Worried.
But thank goodness for human instincts to react. Quickly. Because Roberto grabbed Brad from behind, trying to loosen the nugget, force it out. And then just as quickly, my maternal I will do it, move! anxious mom in me, nudged Roberto out of the way, so that I could firmly jerk up my clasped right hand on left wrist with all my might, yet gently enough not to do more harm; to move that bad, bad piece of meat out of Brad's airway.
Whosh! went the nugget, across the floor, sliding to a stop, maybe three feet away. Right in front of Rudy's nonworkable-casted leg.
I wanted to cry, but didn't. But Roberto did. A lot. And so did Brad. Both cried out of fear, and relief.
Roberto grabbed him. Hugged him. And then Brad was passed around, squeezed by all of our embraces. We wouldn't let him go. Not for a little while, anyway. Not until we felt it was okay for him to fend for his own well being.
When all was calm, I understood, as I have many times before, that life had supplied us with a valuable lesson.
Take nothing for granted.
"Oh, geez!" Roberto stated, realizing Brad was choking. Choking on the possibly too quickly eaten, not chewed enough, kid's meal chicken McNugget.
In that instant, we all panicked along with Brad. Scared. Worried.
But thank goodness for human instincts to react. Quickly. Because Roberto grabbed Brad from behind, trying to loosen the nugget, force it out. And then just as quickly, my maternal I will do it, move! anxious mom in me, nudged Roberto out of the way, so that I could firmly jerk up my clasped right hand on left wrist with all my might, yet gently enough not to do more harm; to move that bad, bad piece of meat out of Brad's airway.
Whosh! went the nugget, across the floor, sliding to a stop, maybe three feet away. Right in front of Rudy's nonworkable-casted leg.
I wanted to cry, but didn't. But Roberto did. A lot. And so did Brad. Both cried out of fear, and relief.
Roberto grabbed him. Hugged him. And then Brad was passed around, squeezed by all of our embraces. We wouldn't let him go. Not for a little while, anyway. Not until we felt it was okay for him to fend for his own well being.
When all was calm, I understood, as I have many times before, that life had supplied us with a valuable lesson.
Take nothing for granted.
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