This is what my darling Ava told me yesterday when I realized she’d been quiet in the bathroom for too long. She had said she needed to go in the bathroom and “have some privacy.”
Very well, dear. No problem. Except, of course, when I come in a few minutes later to find that you’ve eaten half a tube of children’s toothpaste from your dental visit this morning. The tube that says, “call your physician or poison control” if your child swallows more than he or she normally would from brushing. Then there is a problem, dear little one.
As I confronted Ava about her transgression, she continued to INSIST that she was not lying and had not eaten any toothpaste. She turned to me, with a blue sticky ring rimming her lips, and said, “I did NOT eat the toothpaste. Daddy ate it in the car on the way back from the dentist’s office this morning.” I see.
One panicked call to Poison Control–and one large glass of milk–later, and all was calm. The crisis had been averted by the very capable and reassuring man on the line at Poison Control. But let me tell you–I was still pretty pissed off at “daddy.”