This morning the boy got up and decided to wander the house.  He really isn't supposed to do this as
1)  he is a small child and
2)  he doesn't have enough sense not to ingest household chemicals.

D:  Where is The Boy?
K:  He found your wallet and I think he is looking for you to give it to you.
D:  He can't have my wallet.
K:  Well actually he CAN have your wallet but I believe the correct terminology is that he SHOULDN'T have your wallet.
D:  (looking at me with a look that would suggest that I probably should just, I don't know, shut up now?)  He can't have my wallet.

Not, "he can't be wandering around the house unattended because he is a small child, but 'he can't have my wallet.'"  He went downstairs to look for him.  Apparently The Boy had succeeded in trashing the entire living room in under 19 seconds.  Tables were up-ended and there were diapers scattered across the floor.   He brought him back upstairs and plopped him into bed between us.

K:  What were you doing?
D:  He was going through my wallet.

Uh, oh.  The Boy remained uncharacteristically silent as we discussed his poor behavior in his very presence.

I rolled over to go back to sleep.  Then I heard a crunch.

I turned over to see him foaming at the mouth. 

K:  Buddy, you CANNOT eat Tums.  I'm not sure why you can't but I know I would be in trouble if you did.  Now spit it out.  Out came 1/2 of a mint Tums, gummy and wet.