While I was on the phone

With my mother yesterday, Douwe came in to interrupt me several times. Daan did not. So after I hung up I went to investigate his absence. I found him in the bathroom washing his hands. And the counter and the floor and everything else. With three kinds of soap and a very guilty look.

Further examination revealed a red something or other on his fingers which would not come off with soap. And on his face.

Forensic evidence suggested that Daan has acquired the fine motor skills needed to open a bottle of fingernail polish. I asked him if he had it in his mouth and he said, "No, I drank the water. It was icky,". His teeth and tongue were clean but his breath was sort of, I don't know, flowery.

So I went to clean by the bed (which was a lovely shade of Red Coat Red) and found the empty bottle of top coat. Most of which was on the floor, but I believe in forensic evidence. And by this time Daan was admitting to having kidnapped the Lindburgh Baby and denying that he had feet in his efforts to give us the answer we wanted to hear.

Did you know that there is no Poison Control number in Holland? Well, actually there is but it isn't available to the public. So I called the hospital where the man said he had to be brought in so they could look and see if he had actually swallowed the stuff since I was not sure either way. Mostly, he said, children do not actually swallow fingernail polish as it tastes icky. (Uh-huh, that's what Daan said, mister).

I asked what they were planning to look at exactly and got no answer. I mean, you cannot exactly see fingernail polish on an x ray can you? And I suppose acetone would show up on a blood test eventually but by then it might be, er, too late, it seems to me.

So off went Daan to the hospital for scientific testing where they decided they couldn't tell either. And they diagnosed him with being the cutest thing ever, he was apparently flirting with everyine in sight and being generally full of piss and vinegar. Happily, the top coat has not got acetone or any other horribles in it (which the doctor found out by calling poison control, grrr). So they said that even if he had swallowed the whole bottle he ought to be all right, gave him a balloon and sent him home.