I suppose my streak of never having to call poison control in over 15 years of parenting had to come to an end someday. At least when I did have to call it didn't result in a trip to the ER. It was one of those moments when everyone thought someone else was keeping an eye on K. When we realized it and located him, he was covered in some smelly purple-type stuff, with most of it being around his mouth. By smell alone I knew what it was...the antacids I had been keeping next to my bed. (It seemed better to keep them there so I didn't have make more trips to the bathroom in the middle of the night than I already was.) Since the bottle was half empty and had been nearly full the last time I paid attention, I decided I should call poison control, but really hoped that I wouldn't be making another ER visit. At 2 visits to the ER in less than a year, I feel K has fulfilled his quota. The very nice woman at poison control said that K should be fine, he may have a stomach ache and probably needed some water to help wash it all down, but it essentially wouldn't hurt him.
I am thankful that it wasn't something more serious that he got into. Parenting is not for the faint of heart, and without God's grace and provision, I'm not sure I could do it at all.