Let’s talk about kids and gum, shall we? My daughter never had any issues, but Charlie would just swallow it, so I adopted my sister’s rule: “You have to be five to get gum.” Now I wish we had said six. Charlie turned five on Friday. His one birthday wish – a gum ball machine.
Originally, I bought a beautiful antique-looking one that was shiny, red and black. But I took it back, and I am so glad I did.
After thinking about a gum ball machine as a permanent fixture, I decided we would be better off with something that would break. I happened to know from the begging that happens at the grocery store that Charlie’s idea of a gum ball machine is a very small plastic one. So that’s what we got.
We gave it to him on his birthday. He was overjoyed. He chewed through all the gum (which is so bad that it only has flavor for about 12 seconds) and then it broke. This is good, right?
Yes. But where did all that already-been-chewed gum go?
It went into his other present. Charlie likes to play with money so I got him a petty cash box.
He loves it, but that didn’t stop him from spitting gum into the change compartments, or anywhere else for that matter. I also found some on the carpet (fortunately, it was hard as a rock and had not been stepped on). And I even found some on a marker, which made me shake my head (and, of course, get my camera).
I thought he was out of gum, but oh no, no. Like a bloodhound he located some in a leftover goodie bag from his party, which he chewed and then attempted to store …in his EAR! I kid you not, Friends. Today I picked gum out of my son’s ear.
How? How does this happen? Apparently, bad information from a grown-up and bad eye-hand coordination.
At a wedding this weekend, someone with white curly hair told Charlie that when she was little she used to save her gum behind her ear. Well, little Charlie tucked that information away and today tried to tuck his gum away – and missed. At least he was smart enough to know something was wrong, so he mentioned it to me as I was driving. When we got home, I checked, and, sure enough, there it was, in all it’s sticky pink glory.
I couldn’t get it out. The napkin wasn’t working and ice would have eliminated his cooperation. So I actually took a piece of that hard-as-a-rock gum, chewed it up, and poor Charlie had to endure warm slimy gum from my mouth in his ear as I tried to get it out. OY. VEY. Are you kidding me?! Talk about things you never thought you would do.
Well, he’s officially out of gum, and I am officially out of my mind.
Does anyone else have gum craziness happening at their house?