Hello, Pittsburgh Poison Control?

Llama plays with cooking utensils, spices, and pots and pans while I cook dinner every night. She makes a bunch of noise, throws stuff around, and has a great time. Every single night. It seemed like such a great idea because she was right under my feet (constantly under my feet...) and not able to get into anything bad.

Who knew Llama had the motor skills to open the vanilla? Who knew she would drink and keep drinking the vanilla?

Not I.

Who smelled fresh-baked cookies and looked around for them before realizing her daughter was drinking the vanilla?

That'd be me.

I realized that what had been a brand-new, unopened bottle of vanilla on Sunday (when I used one tablespoon to make cookies) was now half empty, and there was none on the floor and none on Llama's shirt. She smelled like a really nice boozehound. I called my mother-in-law, but she didn't answer because she has a class on Thursday nights. I called Bucket, but he didn't answer his phone. I started to freak out as I read the bottle and realized that my vanilla was 35% alcohol. I did the calculation in my head and further realized that 35% equals 70 proof. And she drank half the bottle.

I did the only other thing I could think of. I called Poison Control. I couldn't remember the national number, but I could remember the local one. (If you didn't know, Poison Control started in Pittsburgh and the national center may still be located here, I don't even know.)

A very nice nurse there advised me that I should watch Llama for signs of drunkenness, feed her something sugary that she would eat for sure (a popsicle was suggested), and keep her awake for an hour to an hour and a half. Signs of drunkenness. Are you laughing yet? I wasn't last night, but I am now. So I stripped Llama to her diaper and gave her a nice green popsicle. Finally Bucket called me back, and I gently advised him to come home immediately before my head exploded.

He got home and found everything to be hilarious. I was not yet in a frame of mind for hilarity. So while I finished cooking dinner (of course I did not finish dinner while I was thinking my child was poisoned), he and Llama played on the living room floor. She was dancing. She was laughing. She is my child! She got drunk and danced around. College, here we come!

And then she ate most of Bucket's dinner and half of his dessert because he was holding her while he ate (she would not be contained any other way...) and she kept opening her mouth when he brought the fork to his face, so he gave it to her. Nice daddy. She finally crashed (and I do mean crashed) about 9:15, which is far later than her usual 8 pm bedtime.

And slept through the night for about the third time in her life.

Is it wrong that I have pondered whether vanilla would be okay on a regular basis? I'm so kidding. Have a great day, and don't poison yourself!