It was just another chaotic Friday evening. I returned home from work to find my partner, Alex, a stay-at-home dad, looking thoroughly drained after a day spent wrangling our spirited two-year-old. As soon as I unloaded the groceries from the car, he declared that he was clocking out for a well-deserved nap.
Being the supermom that I am, I had already planned for this scenario and picked up a rotisserie chicken from the store, despite Alex’s constant reminders that it wasn’t organic. But you know what? Tonight, we feast on that convenient, hormone-filled chicken!
I served dinner while comfortably clad in my superhero pajama pants, and my son, Jake, dove into his Costco chicken, a buttery croissant, and an organic Fuji apple, all the while I eyed the growing pile of clutter on the kitchen table. Oh, look! The picture frames for his school photos had arrived! I thought I’d multitask and frame the photos while he ate. I mean, what better way to redeem my choice of dinner than to be an incredible mom, right?
As Alex snoozed in the other room, I was busy putting the photos into the moderately priced frames I had ordered online. Suddenly, nature called. I moved Jake’s food out of reach and asked him to finish what was in his mouth. A quick TV distraction—thank you, Paw Patrol—and I dashed to the bathroom. No dilly-dallying here; I was in and out in under two minutes!
Upon my return, I was met with an astonishing sight: Jake was surrounded by the remnants of the picture frame packaging. How on earth did he get to those? He was trying to hand me something, which I thought was just a piece of cardboard. As I reached for it, he declared, “I ate it.” Oh no, what was he handing me?
As my heart raced, I realized it was one of those little silica gel desiccants that scream “DO NOT EAT.” Panic surged through me as I snatched it away and inspected it for moisture. Thankfully, it was dry. But then I spotted the empty packet on the table—corner missing and a few little beads rolling around, damp from his saliva. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I screamed for Alex, frantically searched Jake’s mouth for any pellets, and unbuckled him from his booster seat.
“Alex! Wake up!” I shouted, flipping on the lights and tossing our little troublemaker onto the bed. I explained what had just happened, then raced to find my phone, only to realize it was nowhere to be found. Back to the bedroom I went for Alex’s phone. Luckily, he’s always prepared—Poison Control was in his contacts.
Unlike the local emergency services, someone actually picked up right away. “Poison Control,” a calm voice said. I blurted out, “My toddler ate a silica gel packet!” In my mind, I was already plotting our route to the emergency room. “Don’t worry,” she reassured me. “This is one of our most common calls. He’s fine, I promise!”
She explained that the warning on the packaging exists because the packet itself is a choking hazard, but the beads are harmless—as long as Jake was breathing and not in distress, everything would be okay. After collecting some information, she ended the call.
Alex entered the room and could tell from my demeanor that we were in the clear. I relayed the good news, but as I placed his phone on the counter, I suddenly burst into tears—ugly, snot-dripping sobs. I was definitely not living up to my Wonder Woman status.
To add to the chaos, Jake had followed his dad and started picking up the beads off the floor, putting them in his mouth. We quickly cleared his mouth and took him out of the room while we cleaned up the mess, and I cried some more. He could have died. If it were poison, he could have died.
Alex consoled me, saying, “He was never in any danger. He’s fine. I’m going to put the laundry in the dryer. Try not to kill him while I’m gone.”
It was just another Friday night, and when I reflect on it, I’ve survived so many of these moments, as has Jake. Maybe I am worthy of those superhero pajama pants after all. But really, screw that silica gel!
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Keyphrase: silica gel safety for toddlers
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