5-year-old Ben and I had a simple mission:  purchase three more packages of white pine roping.  Earlier in the week, Charlene and I had attempted decorating our backyard fence and we were several feet short.  The good news is that Charlene told us right where to find the roping and exterior Velcro, so the trip looked like a quick in and out foray to Home Depot.

Entering through the Garden Department, we found the white pine roping just as we were told to the right of the entrance.  Proceeding inside to the Christmas decorations, which also houses the industrial strength outdoor Velcro, Ben and I passed a stand of holiday fragrance sprays.  As is the tradition with Ben and me, we needed to stop and spray a few of the canisters into the air and vote on which one smells the best.  Cinnamon Apple, okay.  Evergreen, alright.  Frosted cookie party?  This new scent was intriguing.  Sort of like having the flavor of sugar cookies infused into the air.  As Ben and I reflected on the subtle beauty of the fragrance, a sales clerk walked past and noted, “That cookie spray is the best.  I bought one for home.  It’s not like the overpowering cinnamon spray, instead it kind of sneaks up on you.”  Believing that I may have found another who speaks fluent “Cookie,” I began chatting with him about the spray selection, as Ben continued sampling what Glade had to offer.

Suddenly, I saw the sales clerk’s eyes dart toward my son and then with a bit of alarm the Home Depot employee said, “He (my son Ben) just sprayed himself in the face.”  Kneeling down to help my child, Ben looked more stunned than poisoned, along with a newly formed dampness under his lower lip.  Then began the questions, “Did you get it in your eyes?”  “Yes.”  “Does it sting?”  “No.”  “Does it hurt?”  “No.”  Perplexed by the lack of feedback, I scanned the canister.  No poison control information, just a small list of ingredients containing words like “fragrance” and “propellant.”  Nothing alluding to imminent death.

Now if this had happened when I was a new parent, I would have sort of freaked out.  Eye wash stations.  Should I induce vomiting?  Should I force him to drink milk?  How do I save my child?  Where is the closest hospital?  But instead this happened earlier this week.  This was my third child.  I know my boys are resilient.  They have survived worse.  Certainly they are tougher than a can of holiday spray.  Plus, my son now smells like a frosted cookie party, when he exhales.  Who could ask for more?  Merry Christmas!