This morning #2 went with the Bookworm King to the gas station, where he talked the King into letting him help pump the gas. Somehow, in spite of the King's watchful eye, #2 doused himself with gasoline, soaking his clothes and splashing his eyes. By the grace of God, he didn't breathe or swallow any, but the paramedics had to be called, and his eyes had to be washed, and his clothes had to be removed.
By the time I arrived at the gas station (driven by a fellow church member), the King and #2 were sitting in the back of the ambulance waiting for me, with the paramedics observing #2, and #2 rather disgruntled because he couldn't have a doughnut until we knew for sure that he hadn't ingested any gas.
We wound up not going in the ambulance, but taking #2 in the van to the church to get his brother from the nursery, where I had left him in someone else's care, and then to the minor emergency clinic where we have spent so much money lately. My mom was kind enough to meet us with a change of clothes for #2 and to take #3 with her. (Praise the Lord for the spare car seat we keep in her car!)
At the clinic, they rinsed his eyes with another half-liter of water, while he kicked and screamed and carried on and we talked and patted and held him as still as humanly possible. His eyes were examined and declared sore, but alright - and a trip to our favorite pediatric opthomologist was suggested. I'll be calling him tomorrow to see if we can get in to see him in the next couple of days. We went to Gram's house for the rest of the day, and then came home for dinner and rest. We put the boys to bed early because we are all emotionally exhausted from the ordeal.
But my ornery #2 was still able to read to me tonight. Praise be to our Lord Jesus!