*I have a strong, strong desire for a temporary topic change in the general direction of FLUFF. My brain is going to explode otherwise.*
So, there I was this morning, trying to print out W-2s (look at us! tax prep before summer! we're awesome.) while two phones continued to ring and I tried to figure out how to access a new Navy Reserve data system since I'm heading out to training soon...
And then I smelled it.
It was a smell that reminded me of a couple of things.
But, most importantly, it reminded me that I can't take an eye off of my kid for one second.
I guess the Cheerios weren't filling enough. Playette decided that she needed a side item.
Wanna see what my little Iron Chef decided might be tasty?
Because my morning wasn't crazy enough.
I picked her up, guilty look and all, carried her to the kitchen, wiped her mouth and hands, and called Poison Control.
(I'm so glad she was smarter than I was in high school and didn't rub it on her eyelids.)
I mean, I figured it wouldn't hurt her since I've heard plenty a home-remedy that included a spoonful of the gunk, but I really am not working with a ton of good fortune these days, so there would be no taking of chances.
Except, while I was walking and dialing, I made a mistake.
All it takes is one number, y'all.
I realized it wasn't Poison Control when I was asked if I was seeking men or women for my pleasure.
I hope I didn't get charged for that.
Oh, and Playette's totally fine. That teaspoon of rub didn't slow her down one bit.
And her breath has been eucalyptus-y fresh all day.