After tucking the kids into bed, Ryan and I went downstairs to clean the kitchen. A while later, we heard choking and Eric crying, and we raced up the stairs. Turns out Eric had removed a bolt from the standing fan in his room, swallowed it, choked, and threw it up along with some of dinner. He's fine, but it shook him up pretty bad. I thought he was past the "put-everything-in-my-mouth" stage, but I stand corrected.
I know I can't intercept every threat to my kids. That's why I'm so grateful for those guardian angels who tend their charges so diligently.
Behold, my reasons for being a "hover-mother."

