This story is based on an interview with Kimmie Staggs, 34, a stay-at-home mom of three from Dunbarton, West Virginia. It has been edited for length and clarity.
June 23, 2026, felt like any other day, with me rushing around, driving my kids from one place to another.
I'm a stay-at-home mom with three girls: Natalee, 13; Chrislyn, 12; and Sophia, 2.
Life is extremely busy with a teen, a tween, and a toddler. This summer, although we've spent some time at the beach, I've split my time between buying groceries, cleaning the house, and ferrying them to playdates.
That afternoon was pretty much typical. At around 3 p.m., I put Sophia in her car seat, Natalee sat next to me in the front, and we drove to pick up Chrislyn from a friend's house.
We'd barely set off before Natalee screamed hysterically. She was writhing in pain, and I had no idea what was wrong.
My daughter's squishy had exploded over her legs
Then I looked over and saw something that looked like taffy all over her upper thighs.
She yelled that it was a squishy she'd taken off the dashboard, the floor, or from the side pocket. "It popped on me, and it's burning me," she said.
My first reaction was to reach over and try to get it off her. However, the stuff got all over my hands, too. I didn't want to crash.
We were passing my father-in-law and brother-in-law's garage, where they worked, and I stopped to get help. They had a water hose and hosed down Natalee's legs.
We drove to the ER
It didn't work. The gel, now dripping down her calves and onto her flip flops, wouldn't come off and had begun to solidify. I was terrified that toxic chemicals were soaking into her skin.
We drove 20 minutes to the nearest ER in South Williamson, Kentucky, with my hazard lights on. The medical team asked what had happened, and we told them about the squishy exploding.
By then, Natalee was scared and anxious. The whole family — including her dad, Nathan, 36 — rushed to meet us at the hospital.
We comforted Natalee while the medical staff cut off her shorts to treat her.
They called Poison Control. We didn't know the exact brand of the squishy, which was shaped like a mushroom, because the girls had swapped it with one of their friends.
Poison Control reassured them that this particular type of squishy wasn't toxic because it didn't contain plastic beads. The liquid inside was silicon. They said the toy must have heated up in the car and burst. It was their fifth or sixth squishy incident in a week, they told the doctors.
It took the nurses over an hour and a half to remove the stuff, carefully easing it off with saline.
Natalee was discharged later that evening. Her legs looked red, but the burns were not as bad as we'd feared.
Natalee was blessed to have escaped with minor burns.
I posted on Facebook to warn other parents and children about the risk of squishies and heat. It was only 80 degrees that day, but Natalee's one got hot enough to burst.
She was lucky not to have been hurt more
People reached out to me on social media to say thank you, and some said the same type of thing had happened to them.
We hadn't left it in the car on purpose. It was only there because someone had forgotten it after a playdate. You'd never imagined that a popular toy could be so dangerous.
Thankfully, Natalee hardly has a mark on her body now, but it could have been so much worse.
Editor's note: Business Insider contacted Poison Control for comment about burns associated with squishy toys and has not received a response.
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Jane Ridley is a correspondent on the Life team at Business Insider.She was a senior features writer at the New York Post from 2012 to 2022 and previously worked at the New York Daily News for six years.Ridley was born and raised in the UK. She arrived in the US in 2005. She moved across the Atlantic after spending seven years at The Daily Mirror in London.
