Sometimes, I feel bad for all you readers, because when my teens were just rugrats, well, they kept me on my toes!
Like the time I had to call Poison Control.
No, not that time..
…not that time either…
That particular time I called Poison Control was when Sean was a toddler. Sean was an amazing toddler who walked at 8 months, who could maneuver his little 50th percentile self up and over the crib rail at 14 months, who inverted the crib tent once, who wiggled an arm out of the papoose at the ER to slap the doctor stitching up his forehead after he fell “surfing” on the gliding ottoman…
Needless to say, I kept everything really high or locked up. The top of my fridge was a ridiculous mishmash of knives and scissors and Sharpies. If I wanted to clean something, first, I’d have to get a stepstool, because all cleaners were put up higher than even I could reach (okay, low bar, I’m short.) He was the sweetest kid though, which made up for the fact that I could never rest while he was awake.
Meanwhile, I have always had a water bottle for my hair, just a little sprayer to tame my hair down or revive my curls now. Sean thought the little spray bottle of water was the coolest thing, and would walk around the house spraying water into his mouth. Which was a step up from when he would lick everything. Yeah, he was a sensory seeker, that toddler.
So that day, as I was sitting on the couch, I heard the sound of a spritzer – which was normal – but then I heard 2 yr old Sean go “Ew!”
I turned, and saw he was holding a bottle of Fabreeze.
I didn’t even question how he got it. I never left anything low, but the boy was a magical monkey child who could get things he shouldn’t, despite my best efforts. I sighed, took the bottle of Fabreeze from him, and dialed 1-800-222-1222.
Yes, I have that number memorized.
“Poison Control, how may I help you?”
“Yeah, I think my two year old just drank Fabreeze and I need to know what to do.”
“Are you sure he drank it?”
“Well, I didn’t see him do it, but his breath is really fresh.”
There was a snort, some choking, and then an apology from the nice Poison Control Center man for laughing.
“No, it’s okay to laugh.” I said.
At the time Fabreeze was still new, so he looked it up, and said to give Sean milk or something, and then just watch him for vomiting, etc. Sean was fine, he figured out after a spritz that Fabreeze didn’t taste good.
When I told my friend that I was going to start buying all natural cleaners so that when my kids drank the stuff, at least it would be natural, she laughed – because she thought I was kidding.
And Sean did survive his childhood and grew to be a really laid-back teen who is more selective in what he ingests.