Spring loaded

Last night was one of those occasional evenings where Nat leaves me to fend by myself with the girls. This one started well -- we caught the bus home from childcare (actually two buses) without losing either of them (either girl that is, not either bus), and made it home just in time for dinner on the back patio.

Dinner was just beginning to unravel -- they were taking turns feeding their forks through the umbrella hole in the outdoor table -- when I decided to grab them more food to keep them entertained. As I was walking inside, Ella found a spring (a bit like the spring in a retractable pen, only a little large) which had mysteriously disappeared by the time I returned. It was then that Ella remarked: "Daddy, the spring hurts."
"Well, where is it, dear?"
"Here" Ella says, pointing to her neck.
I couldn't see any spring, so I fairly quickly figured out that the spring has half-way down her throat. After a few unsuccessful attempts to cough it up, we discovered that it now hurt her in the chest, and she looked distinctly uncomfortable.

I had visions of the sharp end of a spring tearing a great hole in Ella's oesophagus. There was nothing left for it; time to panic. I checked the phone book, but there was no spring-swallowing advice hotline, so I rang Nana instead. After some deliberation we decided that it was worthwhile taking her to the hospital, which meant Nana had to come over and take Katy, while I borrowed her car.

It wasn't a long trip. The nurse on the desk said the best they could do was observe her and take action if anything drastic happened, and that we could just as easily observe her at home. So, we came straight home, and since then have been assiduously pooh-sifting to see if a spring emerges. No luck yet, but it's likely to be another day or so until we find it ....