A Mouther.

I've called Poison Control a lot. Like...ten times? And seriously, I got so embarrassed about calling 911 to ask for Poison Control that the direct number not only made its way to the refrigerator, but on speed dial of my phone.

The funny part of this is that of the numerous times I've needed Poison Control, it's always the same child who has been the culprit, and wouldn't you know it, it's not the current difficult one.

Yes, Luke, our oldest, is what I'd like to call a "Mouther." A "Mouther" since birth, it wasn't uncommon that I would nurse him for two or three hours on end. I was always frantically picking objects off the floor knowing they'd end up in his mouth (or diaper), and there were many toys that while recommended for ages 3+, I knew that if the pieces fit in his mouth that they'd inevitably be in his mouth.

I imagine that most parents have called the Poison Center for common occurrences like their child eating the toothpaste (check!) or eating more than one vitamin (check!).

But, has your child eaten a dishwasher tablet (check!), or taken a bite out of your favorite Mr. Clean  Magic Eraser (check!)?

Has your four year old bitten through one of those fun glow-in-the-dark necklaces on the way home from a Halloween party and appear to be radioactive? (check!)

Our little woodchuck is soon to be five, and he still puts everything (EVERYTHING) in his mouth. It's not uncommon for us to remind him during the day to take his shoe out of his mouth, a block, to stop licking the doorknob, or to stop biting his toenails. I could go on, but you get the idea.

Maybe you have a child who has similar uncontrollable urges, say, to lick a dollar bill from the till at McDonlads. It's alright, I won't judge. I won't even make that grossed out germophobe face.

Promise.

I will probably laugh though.