Clean Plate Club

I'm sure I've told Jude one or twice he had to clean his plate before he could do (fill in the blank).  Today he had a little different take on the concept.

Visiting at Petrina's house, Jude wore himself and her three dogs out chasing and throwing sticks.  When he came in starving and thirsty, he expected his new best buddies to join in the eat and drink.  While the big dogs took a much needed break on the porch, little Austin followed Jude to the table.  

He volunteered to use my plate to save dishes (we do this a lot at home), but turns out, he noticed it was dirty.  

"Jude, give it to mom and I'll rinse it off for you."

"No, no mom.  I got it.  Here you go little dog, clean it off." 

He proceeded to lay it on the floor so Austin could lick it clean.  I offered to rinse it again, but he was satisfied Austin had done an excellent job so no further cleaning was necessary.  He then insisted it was ready for his food.  Now I'm not one for dog slobber on my eating surface, but as a mother who doesn't want to immediately instill her children a fear or judgement of things that are different, I had to go along with it.

After he had his toast, he was ready for some chocolate.  Again Austin was tasked with making sure he had a clean plate to eat off of.  I can assure everyone that we don't insist his plate be spotless in between all food he might consume at one setting, he just liked having a dog to lick his plate. 

He spotted trace amounts of chocolate on his plate and again little Austin did his duty.  I mentioned to Petrina it needed washing despite its clean appearance to which Jude chimed in, "no, no just put it away. Its clean. Austin cleaned it."  

Petrina thought it was a cute exchange between boy and dog, I think that anyone who hires Jude as a dishwasher best beware.  His clean plate membership may just be denied. 

Reverse Mouth to Mouth

I must have learned this trick on National Geographic or the Discovery Channel or Encyclopedia Brittanica. Wherever it came from, it came in handy.

Dane wasn't choking or anything, he just kept finding and eating candy. Dinner was minutes away and I was having one of those days in which I was fed up with children saying they weren't hungry because they'd been snacking heavily.

Oh, Dane would run and hide with it. I'd squeeze his little cheeks and try to swipe it out to no avail. I'd get bit, but he could swallow it down before I ever had a shot at it anyway.

Finally, out of desperation, I put my mouth over his and just inhaled with all I had. I got a mouthful of saliva-soaked chocolate, but it was worth it. I had won. After that, Dane followed me around most of the night saying, "Mommy, you suck my mouth." He was so impressed by what I had done that he had to tell anyone that would listen.

So I didn't save his life or anything, but I saved my sanity for a while and all it took was a little mouth-to-mouth, in the reverse.

Extweeze Me

Has this ever happened to you?

You enter an elevator about to ride up 40+ floors while you are digging in your purse. You spot your tweezers as the elevators doors close.

You remember the annoying hair on your chin you've been meaning to pluck. You notice you are alone in the elevator, so what the hell, you give it a quick tug.

You've only made it to the tenth floor and you think, could I risk it? "Well no, I wouldn't usually, but I did spot a stray in the chest region while showering this morning. If I had remembered the chin hair then, well then I would have taken care of this other one also, but I didn't so......"

Again, what the hell, you've got some time. You pull out the shirt and the undergarment and get to plucking, and it turns out there's a couple to take of.

The doors open and you are deep into the chest hair plucking and oblivious to the group of men waiting to enter. They are waiting to enter, but can't move for fear of humiliating all involved.

You suddenly snap your head up and realize the crisis immediately. You start explaining how you had a sliver from your son's toy apparently lodged in your sweater. It somehow made its way through your bra and was scratching you on the left breast.

It most likely got there when he was jumping on the splintered wooden toys while you were folding laundry. "Oh yes, he piled the broken toys on the clothes and then started jumping. I must have forgotten to check everything for debris." You know the insanity of the statement, but you're pretty sure they bought it. You hope, but at least you'll likely never see them again.

And then you ride up the elevator with at least one of them every day for a week.

Never happened to you? Yeah, no, me neither.

Well extweeze me, I have to go get some serious workouts in, since I'll be taking the stairs to work.