“Poison Control Center, can you hold please?”
Me: “Ummm….I’m not sure?”
Poison Control Center (PCC): “What is the problem?”
Me: “My son ate some shampoo…”
PCC: (interrupting) “Please hold.”
Me: “Okie dokie…”
(Classical music playing, apparently to soothe Moms whose children are vomiting and dying as they are on hold.)
(Me thinking: please let it not be an ironic twist that Joseph has skulls and crossbones on his pajamas this morning...)
PCC: “Poison Control Center, this is Marge.” (Most monotone voice imaginable. Get some enthusiasm, Marge, you have a pretty intense job.)
Me: “Hi there, my baby ate some Head and Shoulders shampoo, and I was wondering what to do.”
Marge: “How old is your baby?”
Me: “He is actually a year old. I just left for a second to put my clothes on..hehehe (awkward, nervous laugh)…you know how quick these kids can be…hehehe…"
Marge: (interrupting again) "How much did he eat?"
Me (scrubbing the carpet): "Well, judging by the amount on the carpet...hehehe, I'd say only about a teaspoon.."
Marge (completely monotone still): "Okay let me check."
(Apparently, the Poison Control Center is not a laughy-laughy-happy kind of place. Jokes are NOT appreciated.)
Marge: "Looks like he will be fine. Just give him some water, and keep him upright. You may expect some vomiting in the next hour or so."
Me: "Oh. Okay, so I don't need to do anything?"
Marge: "Give him some water, and keep him upright."
Me: "Okay, GREAT!" (maybe a little too chipper?)
Marge: "May I ask where you are calling form, Ma'am?"
Me: "Boise, Idaho."
Marge: "Your phone says you are in Portland."
Me: "Oh, hehehe, it is a cell phone and..."
Marge (interrupting): "Well, next time, you should call from a land line."
Marge: "Thank you for calling, please inform me if his condition worsens."
Me: "Okay, thanks, I..." (phone is dead.)
I stop scrubbing the carpet and walk into the kitchen.
Where is Joseph?
Hope yours (and mine) isn't filled with blue vomit.
(PS: Joseph went back to sleep this morning, and slept until 7:15. I love him so much.)