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With three kids under 6, even the most ordinary things suddenly turn life-threatening. Marbles and balloons become choking hazards. The rope thingies hanging from the blinds become potential nooses. And, of course, a lighted candle is a house fire waiting to happen.

So, since candles are now off-limits, I’ve been on a quest to find some other way to make the house smell like anything other than dirty diapers and fast-food bags. My latest attempt: scented crystals. The package promised that, for just $5.99, these beautiful orange rocks would fill the room with the aroma of a fall harvest. I poured them into the cute little glass jar, set them on the bathroom sink, and waited to be transported to a crisp cornfield.

Savannah and Abby were fascinated with the crystals, standing on their little footstool to gaze and poke at them. I warned them never to touch the jar or remove the crystals, but I might as well have instructed a couple of baby goats to stay off the grass.

The next day, Savannah announced that the crystals, although pretty, weren’t working fast enough. After doing her business in the bathroom, she decided to speed up the process by climbing on the stool, retrieving the glass jar, and waving it over the (still unflushed) toilet. From the kitchen, I heard the curious “plop-plop” sound just before Savannah’s whispered “Oh, no.” A moment later, she stuck her head out. “Mommy? What’s the best way to get things out of the toilet?”

With his typical nose for disaster, John swooped in to assess the damage, demanding to know how many crystals had landed in the toilet. Savannah leaned in for the count. “Nine,” she announced cheerfully. “Unless there are more under the toilet paper. Can’t we just flush them?”

“No,” John answered with gritted teeth. If you know my husband, you know that any minor calamity involving plumbing, electricity, or automotives sets off red-alarm sirens in his head and makes him immune to even the cutest puppy-dog face. Grabbing a slotted spoon, he grumbled something about “why am I always the one…” before disappearing into the bathroom. It would be a few hours before I could tease him about how much his fishing trips have changed over the years.

Ah well, back to our regular old smells. It was nice while it lasted…