Why do emergencies always happen on the weekend?

The preschooler came up to me complaining about her "tummy" hurting. She was holding her hand over her chest, as she got confused about where her tummy was early on, and ever since has refused to accept anything else.

I thought it was nothing. Something hurting generally means that she bumped something. I've been trying to teach her lately not to get so upset about minor bumps, so I just gave her a quick hug and told her she was OK.

She was silent a few seconds. Then she said (from around the fingers in her mouth,) "I lost the coin."

"Oh, I'm sorry, honey," I told her, as I kept reading the newspaper over her head. "Where was it when you lost it?"

"In my mouth."

I put the paper down.

"You swallowed it?" My response was a little louder than I had intended.

"No," she said, her voice a whisper. Then she started crying. "My tummy hurts!"

"It's OK, honey. You're not in trouble." I stroked her hair, trying to think of a way to get the information I needed out of her. "Is the coin in your tummy?"

She nodded, her mouth turned down so far it forced her lower lip into a pout. She rubbed her chest again. "Here."

"What kind of coin was it?"

She looked blank. That's right, she doesn't know the difference between coins yet, I reminded myself.

I looked around for coins. Naturally there were none. She'd swallowed the only around.

I needed to wake the husband up anyway. If it was stuck in her ... what? Esophagus? Well, whatever it was called, if it was stuck there we were going to have to go to the hospital. Naturally something like would happen on a weekend when the doctor's office was closed.

I shook the husband awake before making my way to the dresser where he dumped his pocket contents. I grabbed a handful of coins and showed them to the preschooler. "What did the coin you swallowed look like?"

She considered the coins carefully, then pointed to a penny.

The husband, not ready to wake up after working a swing shift the night before, said, "Just give her some breakfast."

"She already had breakfast," I told him.

"Oh. Well, she'll be fine. We don't need to go the hospital."

I gave up on him. I'd try to get him up later if I decided we needed to visit the emergency room.

The suggestion to feed her was a good one, though. I decided to get the apple juice I'd bought a few days before, out of hiding. (If I don't hide juice and soda they disappear within hours of bringing them home. This particular bottle was hidden behind my pressure canner. I'll have to find another hiding place, since the preschooler saw me get it out.)

I gave her a full cupful, knowing she'd gulp it down quickly. Hopefully that would push the penny down.

Knowing she was going to be allowed to have juice made everything better as far as the preschooler was concerned. She chugged the entire amount within half a second and handed the cup back to me. "I'm all done! I need more!"

I sidestepped the request, not wanting to deal with tears right then. "How do you feel?"

"Better! Can I have more juice?"

She took my refusal surprisingly well.

So this is where we stand now:

She's been lectured about putting coins in her mouth.

Several websites now have a new search string in their stats, "child swallowed coin".

I found out from the Mayo Clinic site that if your child is going to swallow a coin a penny is the worst one. "... pennies are made almost entirely of zinc. When zinc mixes with stomach acid, it forms a compound as corrosive as battery acid." (We will now pause while Jennifer hyperventilates a bit.)

But (again according to the Mayo Clinic,) I don't have to take her to the emergency room since it looks like she swallowed the penny all the way. (She insists she feels fine now.) I just have to check her stools for a couple of days (what fun!) and watch for anything that might indicate something is wrong. (Throwing up blood would be very bad.)

If I don't see the penny by Monday, we'll go to the doctor.

The preschooler is going to start bouncing off the walls any second from all the apple juice she drank.

Five, four, three, two ...