Gum

My kids don't chew gum.    It's kinda one of those house rule things.   Okay, not really.  But for the last several years I've managed to get by on "you're too young" and "you might choke on it."  Truth be told I was chewing gum at age 7.   Heck, Grandma Gustafson was slipping us half sticks (of course!) of Fruit Stripe gum by the time we were 4. 

These days I don't chew it very often. If I think of it (and can find any) I'll pop a piece in my mouth before I go running.  And sometimes I'll chew some while I'm driving, especially long distance.   But I have to remember to spit it out when I get to my location. See, when I chew on the right side of my mouth it makes that awful cracking sound.   It doesn't on the left side.

I'm not kidding.  And that gum cracking sound annoys the crap out of me, so I'm sure not going to be guilty of it. 

Anyhoo, I've let Matthew try it a couple times.  Every time it's the same result.  Chew, chew, chew . . . swallow.   Gracie has had it twice.  Same outcome.

I haven't even scared them yet with that wives tale that gum will stay in your stomach for 7 years.

Apparently one of his basketball pals gave him a piece of gum at the Kids Clubhouse at the Y earlier this week.  You know, on one of our many snow days (and yes, we have another tomorrow --that makes 4 in a row!).   When I came to pick him up he couldn't wait to show me the bright green wad in his mouth.

"Mommy, look!  I didn't swallow it!"

So now he's gunning for me to let him have gum again.   "I'm ready for gum," he keeps telling me.   So I loved it today when I was picking out vitamins at Target and from behind me he asks if I will buy him "some of this gum."

I turn around and he's holding a package of Nicorette.