It was just another ordinary Friday evening. I returned from work, and my husband, a dedicated stay-at-home dad, looked thoroughly worn out from a day spent wrangling our spirited toddler. As soon as I unloaded the groceries, he immediately announced he was clocking out for a well-deserved nap.
Supermom that I am, I had anticipated this scenario and picked up a rotisserie chicken from Costco, despite my husband’s usual complaints about its lack of organic quality. You know what? Tonight, we’re diving into some good old antibiotic and hormone-laden chicken!
I served the meticulously planned dinner while wearing my trusty Wonder Woman pajama pants, and my son sat at the table devouring his Costco chicken, croissant, and a lovely organic Fuji apple. Meanwhile, I gazed at the clutter gathering on the kitchen table. Oh look, the picture frames I ordered for the school photos! I didn’t realize they had arrived. I’ll just pop the photos into the frames while he eats. I’m such a pro at multitasking, and this totally makes up for the questionable chicken choice, right?
While my husband snoozed peacefully, our son was busy stuffing his face, and I was diligently framing photos I ordered from a reasonably priced seller on Amazon. Suddenly, nature called, and I had to pee—urgently. I moved my son’s food out of reach and asked him to finish what was in his mouth. Clearly, I was being a responsible mom! I turned on the TV, which was once again set to the endless loop of Paw Patrol, and dashed for the bathroom. Yes, I really do call it the “potty.”
I was gone for less than two minutes—I promise! Just enough time to relieve myself and wash my hands. No distractions, no scrolling through social media—just a quick in and out. When I returned to the dining area, my heart sank. There was my little angel, surrounded by the remnants of the picture frame boxes. I still can’t figure out how he managed to reach them.
He was trying to hand me something, and I initially thought it was just a piece of cardboard. I was mentally retracing his steps when I reached down to take what he was offering. As I grabbed the item, he confidently declared, “I ate it,” and I realized he was holding one of those little silica gel packets that scream “DO NOT EAT” all over the packaging.
I snatched it from his hand and quickly felt for moisture—thankfully, it was dry and intact. I asked if he had actually put it in his mouth, and he repeated, “Yes, I ate it.” Then I spotted it: the empty silica gel packet, a corner missing, damp with saliva, and a few of the little beads rolling around the table. Instantly, adrenaline coursed through me like a freight train. I screamed for my husband, rifled through my son’s mouth for any pellets, and began unbuckling him from his booster seat.
I shouted for my husband again, and since he had earplugs in, he didn’t wake up until I stormed into the room, flipped on the lights, and insisted he get up immediately. I tossed our little troublemaker onto the bed while I explained what had just transpired. I dashed for my phone, couldn’t find it, and then ran back to grab my husband’s phone. Thankfully, he is always prepared, and Poison Control was right there in his contacts.
Unlike dialing 911 in our area, Poison Control was picked up almost instantly. A calm and professional voice answered, “Poison Control,” and I blurted out, “My toddler ate a silica gel packet.” In my mind, I was already swapping out of my Wonder Woman pajamas, feeling utterly unworthy of them, and plotting the fastest route to the nearest children’s hospital. To my surprise, she reassured me, “This is actually one of our most common calls. He’s going to be just fine.”
She explained that the warning label exists because the packet itself poses a choking hazard, but the little beads are harmless. As long as he’s breathing and not showing signs of distress, he’s totally okay. After collecting some basic information, she ended the call.
By this point, my husband had entered the room and could see by my expression that everything was alright. I relayed the key details, then calmly set his phone down on the kitchen counter before bursting into tears—full on, snot-dripping, ugly crying. Clearly, I was not deserving of those Wonder Woman pajama pants.
To compound the chaos, my little guy had followed his dad into the room and started picking up the beads off the floor and eating them! We quickly cleared his mouth, ushered him out of the room, and cleaned up the mess while I cried some more. The thought that he could have been in serious danger was overwhelming.
My husband took a moment to console me, saying, “He was never in any danger. He’s just fine. I’m going to toss the laundry in the dryer. Please try not to harm him while I’m gone.”
Just another Friday night in the chaos of parenthood. When I reflect on it all, I realize we’ve survived so many of these moments, and maybe I do deserve those Wonder Woman pajamas after all. But seriously, those silica gel packets? They can take a hike.
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In summary, this tale highlights the everyday challenges of parenting, the importance of staying calm in crisis situations, and a humorous take on the chaos that ensues in family life. Silica gel packets, while harmless in this instance, serve as a reminder of the vigilance required when raising curious little ones.