Wednesday's child is full of woe.

While I was not born on a Wednesday, I am feeling sympathetic.

(I was born on a Thursday, and for those of you keeping track, yes, I STLL have far to go).

Yesterday, Thing One (that is the older one)

and I went to visit my family.

It was an hour long ride and about halfway through I stopped at a fabulous little place where they make to die for sandwiches and an incredibly good cup of espresso.

The guy asked me if I trusted him and when I grudgingly assented he made me a Cuban.

That was a new way to drink a shot for me,

and it was delicious.

My favorite bar in Italy used to put the sugar into the cup before they pulled the shot,

and stir it in half way through, so you had nice undisturbed crema on top and it was lovely.

Then Thing One lost a glove, 20 minutes later we were on the road.

He got to play with his cousin who is heading back to the east coast later this week.

The picked blackberries and got to go to the store by themselves.

All was going well until it was time to go.

THEN

Thing One attempted inadvertantly to poison himself.

He wanted some ice tea.

His auntie and I told him it was in the kitchen.

He went to get some and the next thing I hear is retching sounds,

Turns out he had poured himself a nice glass of....

Yes, Pine sol.

Mmmmmmmm

My mother went into full-on panicking dither mode

so we sent her home (across the street) to check her closet for ipecac.

He was already puking, it was a blatant attempt to keep her out of trouble.

We called poison control and they said the puking was good,

give him milk when he's ready to keep something down

and expect a sore throat for a while, he's fine.

Much relieved we changed him shirt, washed his face

and got him some milk.

Then my mom came over,

still panicking

and gave us the number to poison control.

We explained it was done, all was well.

She insisted on calling them because SHE had been talking with someone

there who wanted to know what he had ingested.

So while she was reviewing the events on the phone...

an ambulance pulled up.

My mother had called an ambulance too.

Now, for perspective...

this is the woman who told me (when I was a child)

"If it isn't bleeding or broken, I don't want to hear about it."

As a small child I ingested bleach...twice.

But, this is her grandson,

and panic seemed the appropriate response I guess.

He was fine within 30 minutes,

sucking on peppermints and observing,

"I haven't gotten this much attention since I broke my arm."