Well to be honest, they werent marbles. They were two flat mancala stones. But try explaning that to the receptionist in the emergency room. And that was how my Sunday started. My oldest son woke me up to tell me how his younger brother swallowed the marbles. I half opened my eyes and thought to myself, so this is how today is gonna be. So I got up and called the doctors answering service to see if I actually needed to take my favorite troublemaker to the emergency room. Of course I had to. Two hours and one x-ray later it was confirmed. He swallowed the mancala stones. Everyone we encountered in the hospital recounted stories of how their kids did the same thing-it happens I was told. The ER doctor even said with a laugh, I always wanted to learn how to play mancala-as if that was supposed to make me feel any better about this wonderous event. I can handle the swallowing of the stones. I couldnt even be mad given that as a little one I stuffed anything and everything into my nose and ears and spend many hours in that same emergency room that I was taking my son. It was the after that I was not looking forward to. I love my kids. I would do anything for them. But the thought of having to sift through poop to make sure those stones were out and no longer in-its just gross. I did it. All day. And I was rewarded with NOTHING. Not even one of those damn stones left his little body. So when I woke up this mornining I gave a little smile. I was on my way to work and I got to hand over the yellow gloves. Daddy duty has officially turned into just that. Daddy doody!