I am clearly unfit for my job

[ailbhe]

"Hang on, come back down the stairs, did you say paint?"
"No, Mum, it's not paint, it's INK."

---

Later, and less amusingly, I found that the medicines were not stored high enough (at the highest point in my bedroom I can reach without standing on a chair) and Linnea had carefully taken the "safe" dose of baby paracetamol/acetaminophen.

Two sachets, because that's the most that is safe.

Why yes, I cried. And we are investigating lockable medicine cabinets and trying to work out how to have the keys somewhere I can reach them and she can't. There are very few such places left.

I also explained - again, in a new way - that medicines are not "safe" but only a better option than being sick, and that "safe" doses when ill are a tiny bit poisonous when well.

I have no idea how to make this stick. And it's very important.

Thank heaven for pre-measured sachets.

Comments

[megabitch.livejournal.com]

Did I ever tell you about the time I had to ring the Poison's number at the Children's Hospital after I found K (aged 2) with a handful of red sugar-coated tablets and a bright red tongue from sucking on them? I had absolutely no idea what they were or where they came from (I suspected a bottle of antibiotics or something had perhaps broken open during a move and the tablets had been loose in a packing box and gotten into something and missed when we unpacked and so on, it was the only thing I could come up with). I felt awful. Tablets should not look like sweets... and vice-versa.