ER

Dear Son,

Things are beginning to get back to normal after the holiday frenzy. You're growing and changing everyday. I got you a little toothbrush that fits on my index finger - tried it out for the first time just a few days ago. I was convinced you'd try to bite it off, my finger included - but you were surprisingly cooperative.

Things were running relatively smoothly all in all until yesterday.

(cue scary music)

We were playing in the living room - when I left for a minute to get something from the bedroom. I unfortunately misjudged your ability to - a) reach things supposedly out of your grasp, b) figure out how to get into things (even if it means breaking them) and c) sheer speed which you are able to move. When I left you were playing quietly on one side of the room - and I was gone no more than two minutes.

Upon my return, I found you in a state I'd not seen you in before, and wish to never witness again. You had crawled across the room . . . shimmied between the rocker/recliner and the end table - stretched your little arm out as far as it could reach . . . grabbed a bottle of nail polish and . . .wait -

allow me to clarify something. The nail polish was tucked back out of your reach (or so I thought) and the lid was screwed very tightly. But that just wasn't satisfactory for genius you.

You apparently slammed the bottle onto the hardwood floor upon realizing that you couldn't unscrew the cap, breaking the top off.

So, whenever I re-entered the room . . . there you were:

Huddled behind the chair, hovering over a pool of pink polish, brush in mouth - chewing -

It was in your mouth.
On your face.
Covering both hands.
Smeared completely on your shirt.
Running down one pant leg.


PANIC!!!!


I scooped you up and hurried to the sink with you - head under faucet - letting water run into your mouth.

(dont choke him Jess)

I peeled your clothes off you and tried rubbing the polish from your skin.
Note to self: Water does not wash off polish.

Feeling frantic on the inside, but calm on the outside - I made the decision to take you to the Emergency Room, calling your grandma on the way out the door to meet us there.
Oh, and by the way - you were smiling and laughing through the duration of this ordeal.

We arrive at the ER only to have every nurse in the place "oohing and ahhing" over how adorable you were.

(less oohing, more checking out my boy please)


To make a long story short, I now know that one would have to ingest a VERY LARGE quantity of nail polish in order for any harm to be done . . .

hey, better safe than sorry, right?


I love you little pink polish baby.