Helen from Poison Control must think about me. I call so often, she must think I have a harem of feral children I’ve picked up from bus stops throughout my town, just milling around my house, eating “about 3-5 tablespoons of Mr. Bubbles extra sensitive relaxing bubble bath,” biting chunks out of my dove deodorant, or voluntarily disclosing that they only ate “a little of the blue soap”. WHICH BLUE SOAP FOR GODS SAKE? “Only a little bit. It’s ok.” My toddler reassures me while I crawl through the cabinets and into the walls looking for evidence of tampering. Helen anxiously answers the phone, there is an alarming lack of judgment on her part considering the amount of times I’ve called this week. Do they keep a log of these calls somewhere? At what point is a home visit appropriate? I think I’d check on us if I were you, Helen.