1 mom, as yet unaccustomed to her child's newfound mobility
1 dad, just getting home from a long day of work
1 defiant toddler
1 sample bottle of non-childproofed Cymbalta you got from your doctor
1 extra dash of defiance
Preheat personal hell to 9000 degrees F.
Leave Cymbalta on the counter, and forget to clean the counter off before putting up the dishes. Take eyes off of toddler. Preoccupy yourself with talking to your husband, who has just arrived home from work.
Hear toddler say "wanna take da pill?"
React with lightning speed, jump over the counter, and see that your child has one pill between each forefinger and thumb and the open bottle in his right hand.
Yell in unison with your husband, "(insert child's name here), PUT IT DOWN!"
Watch in horror as child jumps in surprise, then throws one of the pills into the back of his throat. He's well-trained in doing this, see, as he's been taking pills for over a year.
Fall on ground, throw child over knee, and shove your forefinger down his throat. Have fleeting thoughts of the worst. Plan quickest route to hospital. Watch the child gag and cough the pill onto your shoe. Yell at your husband to count the pills, there should be 6. There are, in fact, 6.
Comfort child. Cry with child. Sniff, notice you've literally scared the crap out of your child. Allow your husband to take your still-sobbing child to change his diaper.
Beat yourself up. Imagine all possible what-ifs. Cry profusely.
Yield: Two very shaky hands, 1 test of your heart's strength, 1 eternal praise to God for having a child who will totally rat himself out, 1 blog post.
16 minutes ago