Suicide Attempt

Bertrand and I took the kids out to eat on Saturday evening. Bertrand HATES doing that, but when we can't get a babysitter and I'm desperate to get out, I try to make it work. We decided on Native New Yorker since it's kind of noisy in there and Chloe has a set of lungs and a famous ear-piercing scream when she's ticked. The guys decided to order wings. I ordered a variety of fruits, breads and veggies to share with the girls.

While mulling over the wing flavors, Bertrand and John decided to challenge each other - see who could withstand a suicide wing, so they each ordered one. The two suicide wings arrived on a silver platter and they each took one, grinning at each other and egging each other on. John took one bite and his eyes began to water uncontrollably. He held the wing off to the side and gasped for air. That's when it happened....

Chloe's eyes locked on the wing. She let out a yell and started to dive for it. I dropped my food, threw my body across the table and grabbed both of her hands shouting, "NO CHLOE! STOP!" Too late. She got suicide sauce all over her little hands. I held each of her wrists in a death grip and shouted to Bertrand to get me one of the wet wipes ASAP! He pointed and stated that they were right under my armpit. I let go of one of Chloe's wrists and grabbed a packet. She instantly took her free hand and wiped it across her face, wiping suicide sauce on her lips, chin, cheeks and even into her eyes. "DANG IT", I yelled. "She's getting it everywhere! I need HELP!" Everyone just sat there. "She's fine", said Bertrand. "Look at her". I looked up at her and she was gasping for air. She balled her hands into fists and was hitting herself in the face and rubbing her eyes as hard as she could. She gasped for air again. I tried to make her drink something, but she wouldn't. She became more and more agitated and gasped more and more for air. At this point EVERYONE in the restaurant was staring at us. I swooped Chloe up into my arms and ran for the bathroom.

I ripped a paper towel off, soaked it in cold water and started washing her face and eyes. She continued to gasp for air, batting at the wet paper towel and struggling to get away from it. Two female servers entered the bathroom and said, "Oh, poor little guy". I explained quick what had happened and they both gasped and clasped their hands over their mouths. One of them told me that our server had gone back in the kitchen and told everyone that a father and son were challenging each other with suicide wings. Even though that restaurant offers the suicide wing, the servers are always amazed, apparently, when someone actually wants to try it. They felt so bad that my baby had it in her eyes and on her face. I washed her off as best as I could and walked around with her for a bit.

When I returned to the table, John was still crying and drinking and saying his mouth was on fire and the burning wouldn't stop. I thought, "Poor little Chloe. She must be in AGONY!" We had to pay our bill and get out of there quick. What a disaster.