Normally my kids don’t get into stuff. At least, not my stuff. When Monkey was under 18 months his favorite thing to do was to dump the recycling bin and listen to the aluminum cans crash onto the hardwood floor. And Abalone loved the “kids’ cabinet” where the plastic ware still resides to this day. She loved taking evert single bowl out and just letting them fly as she swept her arm through. Getting them back in was a joke. It was more like stuffing my ass into a pair of skinny jeans. Some would make it in but most need experienced help to stack everything neatly.
One day my son saw me pop a birth control pill and he asked me, “Is that candy?” But he didn’t say it normal. He said it like Satan meets Mathilda with a diabolical look in his eye and a sweet voice with and emphasis on the “dee” in candy.
“It looks like candy.”
“It’s not candy. It’s mine. Leave it alone.” And I put it back.
I should have known better.
I should have said, “This is mommy’s medicine. Don’t touch it.” And put it up high.
But I’m an idiot.
At nap I saw the whole pack was gone except the sugar pills. Monkey had just been downstairs for his mid-nap pee so I called him down and asked if he’d eaten them. He denied it up and down. I told him he could get very sick and I needed the truth. He finally admitted it.
So I called Poison Control. Did you know that calling Poison Control is like calling TSA? What’s your name and address? What’s your son’s name? Any other kids? What do you do for a living? What do you mean you’re not in California? You’re calling from a California number. What did you eat for breakfast? What are you wearing?
Dude, I just want to know if I need to go by some ipecap.
Poison Control Man said he might throw up and he’d have tender breasts, but not to worry because this would not affect his long term sexuality.
Not even a blip on my radar. I was more concerned with my kid dying of hyperestrogenian syndrome (it is to real, I just made it up). But, this is me and that man was lucky enough to get to talk to me. And I know you’re all thinking it, so I asked. “Do people actually really think their kid will be gay after eating a bunch of birth control pills?”
Apparently the answer is yes. Peeps wonder. I couldn’t have given a shit.
Monkey did not throw up. But he did take a longer nap than normal.
Now I have to wonder what they do with my recorded call? I’m sure this is going on my permanent record. They’re keeping this stuff for potential future CPS investigations. “Ma-am, 10 years ago you let your son eat birth control pills. We’re going to have to place him in foster care.”
Wait, you want to take teenager Monkey away? And deal with him yourselves? Bwah-ha. Haha. HA! Good luck with that.