As a child, I used to imagine I had a portal to Neverland hidden in a glittery rainbow mobile that hung above my mirror. All I had to do was whisper, "I'm Peter Pan in Neverland." over and over until Tinkerbell arrived.
So, you can bet that Espen has already been exposed to a pantheon of unicorns, fairies and...dragon pills.
The thing is, these pills are legitimately called "Dragon Pills", which made them even more appealing in my eyes, and apparently, his too.
For the last year, I've been working with a Tibetan doctor to boost my immune system through an ongoing series of tiny little black pills that contain a variety of magical herbs that have been collected by monks and prayed over by nuns high in the Himalaya before being shipped to my door.
Being a responsible, though whimsical parent, I have been clear with Espen that these little beauties are medicine and for mom only unless he is sick and mom gives him one.
And in my folly, yet again, I assumed that the heretofore uncrossed frontier of self-administering Dragon Pills would remain untested when I stepped into my morning shower.
For the last three months, we have had a routine. We wake up in the morning, we make breakfast, we eat, Tobias leaves for work, I clean up, I shower, Espen plays while I shower, life is beautifully rhythmic.
On this particular Friday, I had been in the shower for all of five minutes, when Espen came cackling into the bathroom.
This is fairly typical.
What was not, was the midnight colored drool ribbon-ing down the corner of his mouth and off his jaw.
He smiled at me, his mouth a black hole that looked like it had recently licked a cinder bucket.
I tried to stay calm. My voice may have lowered several octaves and become unnaturally slow.
"Espen, What. Is. In. Your. Mouth."
He laughed at me, gleefully raising his hands. "Dragon Pills, Mama!"
Some people leap into a flurry of activity when the world begins to crumble around them. Me? I just stood there in the warm shower, thinking for a split second that I could freeze time, just like I did in childhood.
Then Espen spoke. "Mama! Me get more!"
There is little magic on earth more potent than a toddler's declaration of intent.
I flew out of the shower as Espen careened from the bathroom and back towards the kitchen.
Somewhere in the midst of this, I managed to grab a small towel.
Hot on his heels, I charged into the hall and beheld the full extent of his intrepid foraging.
Speech rarely fails me, but on this occasion, I was utterly gobsmacked.
And completely nude.
Stretching from one end of the house to the other, a sea of tiny black spheres sat placidly on the surface of the floor.As though carefully placed by an individual mastermind...or violently cast from the top of the previously inaccessible kitchen counter.
The only clue to the crime was a step ladder in front of the counter that had been mere decoration until this day.
It gleamed quietly, decoration, no longer--now elevated to the dubious heights of Accessory to Disorder.
What does one do in these moments?
My best guess was to immobilize the child.
Espen tried to skate on top of the Dragon Pills.
I began silently repeating my commitment to non-violent parenting.
Into the car seat went Espen Camino with a bevy of books and toys.
Back into the shower went I.
One has to collect one's thoughts before venturing into Utter Carnage, lest one be overwhelmed by the sheer destruction.
Once clean, I dressed myself with the resignation of a suicide bomber and headed back into the kitchen.
For the next hour I crawled about on hands and knees plucking each Dragon Pill off the ground.
Now, I knew from previous experience, that Tibetan herbs are not going to re-tool one's gut flora if ingested without authorization. I was also hoping Espen might puke just A LITTLE, if only to emphasize the importance of ONLY EATING PILLS ADMINISTERED BY A PARENT...but no such luck.
He babbled and chatted away in the car seat without any signals of impending physical distress. I repeatedly impressed upon him how utterly NO NO it was to eat pills. He demanded his release.
I, on the other hand, was experiencing significant levels of distress.
Everyone with any imagination knows that if toddlers were the physical size of adults, the world would be doomed. With little to no impulse control and the flexibility of a rubber band, there is nothing they could not or would not attempt. Respect and healthy fear would never enter the choice making equation.Just so, I wondered, laboring over the hundreds of anonymous Dragon Pills,
How do you make the point that taking pills is a bad idea until you are at LEAST old enough to read directions?
Finally, the floor clean, I emancipated Espen from his car seat and took a moment to breathe. Two seconds later, he was on his scooter barreling down the hallway.
"Mama! My find Dragon Pill!"
"Bring it to me."
Silence.
I raced around the corner to behold my offspring drooling the black drool and smiling.
In my attempt to get his attention AND scoop the pill from his mouth, Espen began to laugh. And in this moment, realizing there was no way in hell he was going to pay attention to words, I clapped my hand solidly onto his behind. Just once. Just firmly enough to get his attention. And I said with my very firmest mom voice:
"Espen, you must NEVER EVER eat pills without mom giving them to you. Do you understand?"
He laughed again.
And I thought, "Have mercy."
