When I was 4 or 5, maybe 5 or 6,
my sisters and I were at home by ourselves.
My oldest sister C. was our babysitter.
It seems like we were doing some cleaning or something
because I sat on the counter top with a spray bottle.
My hands were just itching to spray that spray bottle for no other reason than the pure joy of squeezing that pump and watching as a stream of cleaner soared across the room.
I gave in to my temptation.
I aimed for the refrigerator, an easy target.
It was like my, just older than me, sister CH. knew what I was going to do and in all her loving kindness she jumped in front of the refrigerator saving it from my blast.
I remember the look on her face.
Her mouth open wide like she is about to laugh.
Her eyes filled with glee.
Maybe she really didn't know I was about to spray.
But I filled her mouth with a squirt of what was in that spray bottle.
After that I only remember panic, fury, and my confusion.
My oldest sister C. called poison control, or 911 I am not really sure.
I just remember I was so scared I ran out into my yard and hid in a group of trees that grew just to the side of our house.
I watched as a big red emergency truck pulled up to our house,
paramedics, or firemen rushing to my sisters rescue.
I was terrified.
In my little girl mind I remember crouching down in my not so well thought out hiding spot as a fireman walked past me and looked right over at me.
He didn't say anything, didn't even stop,
but in that moment I knew what would happen.
The rescuers would take me away in the back of their big red truck because of what I had done.
In this case I was the bad guy.
I thought that maybe they would give me glass slippers so it wouldn't be so bad.
(I was 4 or 5, 5 or 6 remember)
It turned out they didn't carry me away,
( I didn't get any glass slippers)
they finished tending to my sister CH. and then they left.
Why was it such a big deal?
Just what had I sprayed into CH.'s mouth?
**Stay tuned for the poison finale on Friday.