Fact... or Fiction?

You remember how when we were growing up our parents would tell us all kinds of things to get us to not do something?

Like:
Don't cross your eyes otherwise you'll go blind.
Don't make that face -- one day you will wake up that way.
Don't swallow watermelon seeds otherwise it will grow out of your tummy.

As we get older, we obviously know better and that sort of stuff rolls off our backs. However, for me, as much as I know... as much education I have under my belt... as much life experience I have accumulated over 3.. thirty-something odd years... there's still some stuff that my mom's drilled into my head that I can't shake loose.

This morning I was upstairs getting ready for the day and the kids were downstairs watching TV. My typical routine is to feed them first then let them watch a show so I can have at least 25 minutes of uninterrupted Mommy Time to wash up, do my hair, get dressed, whatever. It's a treasured time, believe me. Anyway, I usually hear them talking or making some comments about the show. Especially Malia. But this morning, she was pretty quiet. I should have picked up on it, but I was pretty tired from a late night out with Linda, Katelyn and Shirley. I finish and walk (OK, OK -- it's more like waddle) downstairs.

The first thing I notice is what I don't see: Malia. Kael's sitting on the couch and usually Malia is next to him or jumping from the ottoman to the couch and back. But she's nowhere to be found. I call her and there's no response. I start to feel the first pricklings of panic -- then I see her: she's climbed up the bar stool to sit at the kitchen counter.

The past week she's discovered that the kitchen counter is a virtual treasure trove of forbidden fruits: pens, coins, Kael's art work, Daddy's glasses, car keys, the plate of brownies. So she's climbing up those bar stools every hour or so to see what's up there. As mentioned earlier, I went out last night. I emptied out my "going out" purse of stuff to put back into my "everyday" shoulder bag: driver's license, credit card, chapstick, a pack of gum.

A pack of GUM.

GUM. Or at least what used to be an almost full pack of gum. What was left was a pile of wrappers and 4 gobs of partially chewed Spearmint Trident gum. There were probably 8-10 empty wrappers and only 4 chewed gobs that I collected. The obvious question would be what happened to the rest of the gum? Well, it wasn't stuck on her anywhere (not her body, not her hair, not her clothes). I pulled one out of her mouth (under protest) and the rest were either on the counter or on the ground. The only logical conclusion is that she ate said missing gum. That's a lot of fricking gum! (On a side note, I did take a moment to be duly impressed at her fine motor skills to be able to unwrap those tiny pieces of gum.)

So to tie everything in and finish this post, I know intellectually that gum doesn't really make your intestines stick together. I know that. But at that moment (and I will admit many moments throughout the day as the scent of spearmint floated about her), I could hear my mom's words coming back to haunt me: Don't ever swallow gum -- it will glue your insides shut.

That's not true. Malia's fine. Her intestines won't be blocked or anything. Right?

RIGHT?!