"It says it's non-toxic." "Well, that's a plus."

The boys are reaching that “fun stage.” At least, others that don’t have to spend all day supervising them call it the “fun stage.” I call it the “headache-inducing and potentially lethal stage.” That’s the point when they’re mobile enough to interact with almost anything in the house, but not old enough to listen to me screaming at them or realize that ingesting anything that can fit in the mouth is a bad idea.

I need to keep a close eye on everyone at all times. This is difficult since I have one more child than eyeballs, plus I have the occasional chore to complete where I just have to trust that everyone is behaving. Like yesterday when I had to switch a load of laundry. In the time between opening the washer door and closing the dryer door, Ian had pulled several pieces of plastic and glass food storage containers out of the kitchen cupboard, Abbie had dumped half the filing cabinet’s contents onto the floor, and Tory had knocked the diaper pail open and was exploring its contents in a likely quest to find something edible.

That was bad, but it was more of an annoyance than anything dangerous. Ian could’ve broken a glass container, but the kitchen floor is linoleum, and I doubt he has that much strength. Tory could’ve swallowed something, but it probably came out of him in the first place. Abbie could’ve found a way to injure herself on the filing cabinet, but … actually, that one’s pretty likely since she could’ve slammed her fingers or something. The point is nobody was in mortal danger. No, the mortal danger came later.

Abbie recently discovered that she likes Play-Doh. We have several fun-size cans of Play-Doh stockpiled as Halloween treats. Some adults like to give the stuff away as an alternative to sugary-treats, but I have my own method of keeping my children from eating too much sugar, specifically I eat it before they can get to it. I appreciate these parents’ effort, but Abbie was too young for Play-Doh when she received it. When I opened it for her, she just poked it and shoved it to the side. Since I couldn’t remember what to do with Play-Doh, I left it on the shelf for a while.

A couple weeks ago, I tried the Play-Doh again, and this time she played with it. She’ll poke it, flatten it, stuff it back in the container, pull it out again, and repeat while occasionally slipping some in her mouth. When I’ve decided that she’s lost interest, or that she’s eaten too much of the stuff, I take it away and she returns to climbing on the entertainment center.

The problem with Play-Doh is the boys are really too young for the stuff, as their sole interaction with it is to try to eat it. The package says “non-toxic,” but the boys are capable of eating quantities larger than the good people at Hasbro have tested on humans. I work around this by giving Abbie the Play-Doh in her booster seat like I do for food at mealtime. The boys can’t reach the Play-Doh on Abbie’s tray, at least not without a lot of effort. Unfortunately, they’re usually willing to put forth a lot of effort to grab anything off Abbie’s food tray no matter how many Tasteeos I pile up for them in the living room.

Last night I was cleaning up after dinner, and Abbie hopped into her booster seat. I took this opportunity to set Play-Doh in front of her, and she went to work pulling and flattening the stuff. The boys also went to work, convinced that she had something delicious on her tray, and generally acting like I hadn’t just stuffed them full of mashed potatoes, milk, and Tasteeos. I kept an eye on them in between cleaning dishes, though I wasn’t too concerned that they might eat a little Play-Doh since it’s non-toxic, and therefore nothing could possibly go wrong.

Then Tory started gagging. He had grabbed a giant handful of Play-Doh while my back was turned, and attempted to eat it. Unfortunately, Play-Doh becomes a very sticky paste-like substance when mixed with saliva, and had glued itself into his mouth. Fortunately, it stayed in his mouth instead of moving down his throat. I knelt down, pulled out the largest wad, and called Ellie to finish the job while I kept the other two in check.

Things are getting tough, now. I have to keep a closer eye on everyone, and I have to devote more time to cleaning as they dump things on the floor. I guess that qualifies as “fun.”