"There was a young boy who [might have] swallowed a..."

[Voice coming from the stairs behind us at 8:45pm]
"It feels like I might have swallowed a tack."
[Silence.]
"Sooo, did you swallow a tack?"
"Well...I don't know, but it feels like I did."
"Did you put a tack in your mouth?"
"I had part of it in my mouth."
"Which part?"
"The pokey part."
"And did it come out of your mouth, or did it go down your throat?"
"I'm not sure, but I'm afraid I swallowed it."

Oh boy. All kinds of thoughts running through our heads: What in the world do you do if your child does swallow a tack? How can he not know if he did or did not? Of all the stupid things to do...Are we going to be able to finish our show, or will we have to head to the ER?

No, they were not all loving thoughts, and no, he did not swallow it. Greg found the offending tack in Joel's bed, much to our (and Joel's) relief.

I went out the next day and bought flat thumb tacks to replace the easy-to-remove push pins in the posters beside the kids' beds. Sheesh!