History Repeats Itself

Why is it that when my boys are 2 1/2, there is always a phone call to poison control? Is it just me...just my kids?

When Noah was 2 1/2 he loved blueberries. We had an indoor/outdoor cat and lived next to the woods, so she would frequently get ticks. Yep, you know where this is going, don't you? A blood-filled tick, the size of a blueberry dropped off of her somewhere in the house, and I found Noah (ugh...can't even say it). Freaked out, I called poison control. All was well, but as you can see, 10 years later, I'm still grossed out.

When Oliver was 2 1/2 he got a hold of a handful of the clorox cleaning wipes. I found him sitting in the living room sucking on them. Guess what? He's not the only kid that's done that, nor am I the only freaked out mom to call poison control with the same story.

When Linus was 2 1/2...oh, wait...that would be now, he ate 500mg of acetaminophen. Let me just say that I do not leave medicine hanging around the house. Noah had new wires put on his braces 2 days ago, and when he went to bed last night he put them next to his bed with a cup of water in anticipation of waking in the middle of the night in pain. Evidently he didn't, nor did he put them back in the bottle. And while I was distracted with laundry this evening, Linus found them. So Rita at Poison Control (we're BFF's now) said that it would take 3 or 4 extra strength Tylenol before I would need to worry.

I am comforted by the thought that the traumatic event and subsequent call to Poison Control has passed.

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