Oh. my. kids.
If I had a nickel for every time they get into something they shouldn’t, I’d be dead – buried alive in nickels. Lunch Bucket is potty training (which could merit its own blog – not blog entry, blog). We stayed the night last night at Jenni’s parents’ house. They do a decent job keeping the house toddler-resistant, but toddlers find a way. Oh, they find a way.
Lunch Bucket went and used the potty and then washed her hands, and from the kitchen I could hear that the water running, and running. Worried that she might be flooding the bathroom, I called out to her, and Jenni went in to check on her, and found her happily washing her hands – which of itself was fine, but there were two half-dissolved acid relief pills in the sink. Then she saw the empty bottle on the counter and a few spilled about in the shelf above the sink. Jenni immediately began examining Lunch Bucket for signs of ingestion. Lunch Bucket insisted she hadn’t had any.
Jenni called me in, and we looked for any evidence that she might have eaten some. We couldn’t find any, other than the half dissolved pills (does water dissolve pills like that?) in the sink, but wanted to be sure, so we called poison control. I think I have their phone number memorized now. Our kids each have a record, and all their files involve ingestion: Tylenol, neon light bulb powder, diaper cream (yuck!), and now acid relief pills. They suggested that we’d better take her into the emergency room – just in case.
Jenni took her and I stayed back with Tootles. About ten minutes later, Jenni came back worried that perhaps Tootles might have been the culprit earlier in the day. So off we went on our family adventure to the increasingly familiar emergency room (mind you, we’ve always had healthy, albeit very curious kids).
They started out with the typical procedures, sign in, weight check, $150 co-pay (good grief… Obama’s health plans are looking better every day). Then we were assigned to a room.
Three hours later we were released with no signs of any problem. Three late night hours, mind you. Three sleep-deprived hours, with a rambunctious Tootles (have I told you of his restless tendencies at hospitals? Or about Jenni getting yelled at by an old lady for not letting him play with the fun rattly bottles in the pharmacy? Oh, he’s a BIG fan of hospitals…).
In the end, there was no problem. They hadn’t taken anything.
All I can say is thank heaven for the movie Ratatouille. Love that show. Great for food appreciators. Only trouble was, when we finally got home, I couldn’t go to bed before enjoying a tasty midnight snack.
Look at those faces. How could they NOT be up to something?