So if you swallow gum, it messes up your system and takes seven years to work its way out, right? An Old Wives' Tale for sure, but one that, once you've heard as a child, you don't soon forget. And even if I never fully bought into that tale once I had kids and was the very paranoid first-time parent, I still knew gum could be a choking hazard. So it was awhile until I let my boys chew gum, until I was sure they wouldn't swallow it and could chew it without choking. Even though Luke usually has enough gum in his mouth so it appears he is chewing on a golf ball while attempting some stunt such as flying from the couch onto a stack of pillows. I am fairly amazed we haven't been forced to Heimlich him.
The boys have become what you could call gum connoisseurs. I contribute this to my sister, Shannon, who they affectionately refer to as Nan. She loves gum, and she keeps them in stock. They won't taste vegetables, but they will try any manner of gum you put in front of them. That's their thing with her. I only ask they don't eat gum for breakfast when they are with her.
So, when it's dinner time and I tell the boys to go spit out their gum, I assume they know what I mean. But recent evidence would suggest otherwise. I find wads of gum on the floor next to the trash can. Or on the wall behind the trash can. Or in the trash can, just not in the trash bag. Or, I find the dog chewing on a piece that he picked up off the ground. Or I find the pieces inevitably stuck to the bottom of shoes. It almost makes me regret teaching them not to swallow their gum. That would be the perfect disposal mechanism.
Behold, The Unicorn Frappuccino
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