Last night Chloe and I were cuddling on the sofa watching a movie together. When a scary part came, I would roll her towards me and shield her from 'the bad part'. But every time I did, she kept burying her head way down and it looked as though she could hardly breathe. I told her she didn't have to get that extreme. She replied with, "I'm just trying to get out of your breath, Mom. It doesn't smell good."
That was a low blow.
Of all the things you could tell the President of the Fresh Breath Society of America (me - and my own self imposed title), that would be the ultimate put down.
I should have paused the movie right then and there, marched myself up stairs, and commenced brushing and flossing immediately. But I didn't. I was laughing way too hard. Those were the funniest words I had heard all day.
Unfortunately, she was right. I had just finished eating chili and wasn't expecting anyone to cuddle me. So, technically, I was neglecting my fresh breath duties. But don't think I haven't learned my lesson. I will now come equipped with a tasty little mint, secured inadvertently in my pocket and covertly placed upon my palet so I can avoid any further humiliating moments such as these.
My goal is for anyone who is ever "in my breath" again, is to want to stay in it, not get out of it.
