just in case

Just in case you have a 6-year-old son whose kindergarten teacher gives him an ink pen that doubles as a flashing, multi-colored light for his birthday.

And just in case that quick-witted lad sneaks this blinking ballpoint into his bed and flaunts it at his siblings in the trundle below and in the room across the hall when all are supposed to be asleep.

And just in case he’s been reprimanded for the above so he proceeds to dismantle the gadget for entertainment instead.

And just in case you and your hubby are in the kitchen steeping tea and jigging because whew! they’re all in bed! and looking forward to cuddling on the couch when you hear a “Psssssttt!” from down that hall.

And just in case the hubby trudges down said hall to the room of the Psssssttter and stomps back disbelieving:  the. boy. swallowed. a. battery.   ?!?!?!?

Just in case all of the above, there is a National Battery Ingestion Hotline for those susceptible to said consumption.

And the people at the end of that line will calmly query, “And why did the child put the battery into his mouth?”  And you might snort at the absurdity of it all.  Why, indeed?  For safekeeping?  For use as a supersonic spitwad?  And the Battery Ingestion Expert will recommend the ER and an x-ray and Is the child having difficulty breathing? Because then an ambulance is in order.  And meanwhile you are trying to determine if the steam crawling the kitchen wall opposite you is trailing from the teapot or your dear husband’s ears.

And FYI, the Hotline people will proceed to call periodically following the incident wondering if said object has “passed.”  Now, you might feel as if you are exposed to enough excrement in a day, what with a 3-month old and being in the process of potty-training the 2-year-old, but so be it.  If it’s going to save another several hundred, the dear husband says we will be searching the stool.

Just in case.

Now you know.