Then, when she crawls over to a metal cart that is used to transport hymnals, go ahead and let her pull herself up to standing by the shelves. Honestly, what harm is there in that? She's just learning to be independent.
Then, when you notice her playing with a loose screw sitting on the cart, make sure to take it away. You're a good parent! You totally just averted a choking disaster. Go ahead and bask in your proactive nature, and let her continue to play on shelves you haven't yet examined.
Next, when she starts choking violently, run to her aid and fish a second screw you hadn't noticed out of her mouth, and then watch as a third one falls to the floor. Consider yourself lucky for a milisecond that you were able to extract them before things got dangerous.
When she continues choking violently on what must be yet another screw stuck in her gullet, panic in such a way that instead of immediately doing the Heimlich, your attention focuses on the church meeting you are interrupting, and go ahead and just carry your daughter out of the room while she gasps desperately for oxygen, dying. Propriety first! The death of a child is a small price to pay to ensure that an entire room full of people doesn't have to be distracted for thirty seconds by your life-saving ruckus.
As you approach the door to leave, don't be alarmed when the choking noises shift into the sound of vomit pouring onto the gym floor. Babies vomit all the time! It's not a big deal at all! When you hear the loud clank of a screw smacking the ground, quickly bend over to pick it up and hurry out of the room. Maybe the entire room didn't notice that your child violently choked for twenty straight seconds until she poured vomit onto a gym floor and then upchucked metal. You're so good at not interrupting meetings!
In the bathroom, sweep your baby's throat to ensure there are not more screws threatening her windpipe, or that at least she swallowed the ones that were left. (Delicious!) Grab a bunch of paper towels so you can clean up the mess of milky vomit you left on the floor.
On your way back to the gym, casually talk to a few people as if nothing happened. It will make it feel a lot less like you nearly just killed your baby.
When you get back to the gym, go to start cleaning up, but then have someone say "Oh, no, don't worry, we've sent some of the Young Men to take care of that. You probably have a lot to deal with already." Realize at that point that there's no way anybody didn't notice your near-infanticide, and accept the fact that you are a horrible person. For interrupting a meeting.
When your friend Konrad comes up to you after the meeting to ask if Tessa "got her fill of screws," shrewdly ask him to take a couple of pictures so that you can document this triumphant moment in parenting.
She looks kind of not-traumatized, right?
There is a 78% chance I will find one of these in Tessa's diaper tomorrow.
Father of the Century Award? A winner! Yet again!
At least I can take comfort that I'm probably not the only parent that has had this type of thing happen. Right?