I was re-telling this story recently and the person I told it to said I needed to write it down. So, here goes: The boys were pretty little, Marshall was probably about 4 and Garrett about 3. I remember the night before we had stopped to eat pizza on our way home from a camping trip. At the salad bar, I asked the boys if they wanted mushrooms to which I got an emphatic, "No" from each of them. I didn't think much of it and life went on. The next evening, I was cooking spaghetti for supper. The boys were playing in the yard. They come running in the house, up the stairs and say, "Mommy, Mommy, we ate mushrooms!" They were so proud of themselves while I had an overwhelming feeling of dread coming over me. Being the good mom that I am, I got all the details; they both only nibbled about 1 square centimeter of a mushroom from the yard. I then proceeded to call poison control. I told poison control what happened and they asked,...