Baby's Breath / by Susie Lubell

It's official. My son is no longer a baby. He has morning breath. Maybe he's had it a while but I only just noticed the other day when he got up in my face while I was sleeping and whispered into my nose, I want some cereal. And I'm thinking, did you swallow a dirty sock or what?

They call that flower baby's breath for a reason because it is sweet and pure just like a baby's breath. My daughter gives kisses with mouth wide open and her tongue hanging out and I love it because she only has six little teeth nubs and no place for food to settle in and germinate. My son, and everyone else for the matter, has a mouth full of chompers and festering bacteria giving him the breath of a thousand camels when he wakes up. Well, it's not that bad. It's not like he eats garlic or onions much. Not if he can help it anyway.

You know how else I know he's growing up? He wants his privacy. Now when he goes poo poo I sit him down on his elmo potty (which sits on top of the toilet) and he asks me to shut the door until he's done so he can have "pwivacy." And so his sister doesn't crawl in and annoy him. That means that when I'm in the bathroom and he comes in I can tell him to leave because mommies also need "pwivacy".

So my little boy is growing up.
But finally some solitude on the toilet.