One Does NOT French Kiss Their Mother

Micah had Kool-Aid today. He likes Kool-Aid, and this wasn't his first Kool-Aid adventure. This was, however, the first time he's seen himself in a mirror after drinking Kool-Aid. I spent the next ten minutes laughing at him.

The boy is a neat freak, which is ironic because being a boy, a large part of his genetic make-up is dirt. He will wipe his hands a hundred and thirty two times a day because there is something on them. If only he could see his face at any given time he'd freak out. Today he saw his tongue. And I'll give him kudos for not freaking. He was disturbed though.

He wouldn't put his tongue back in his mouth, but let it hang out. Maybe he was afraid that it would contaminate the inside of his mouth if he allowed it back in. Maybe he just didn't want to take his eyes off it.

He was caught in a dilemma - he wanted to take that tongue off so that he could see it without the aid of a mirror, and yet he knew that it was definitely unremovable. Still, one instinct fought with another and while that cute little tongue hung out drying, he would reach up with both hands and almost grab it to pull before realizing that it would be a moot point.

He came over to me and asked to see my tongue. I showed him. Mine wasn't red because I drank water for lunch. He put his out to show me. I said, "your tongue is red." (Because I like to point out the obvious sometimes.) He wanted to see my tongue again. I showed him. He put his tongue out and tried rubbing the red off his tongue and onto mine. Thankfully I figured out what was going down just before contact was made.

One does not French kiss their mother. That is about thirteen different levels of wrong right there.

He reached for a wash cloth but decided that a wash cloth on your tongue would be weird. He put it back. He hung his tongue out and wiped it with his finger. His finger was wet and he gave a very satisfied, "there." It was taken care of because he wiped it off on his finger. He wiped his now wet finger on his pants leg and walked on his merry way.

Past the mirror.

Where he stuck his tongue out at the boy on the other side.

The boy's tongue was still red.

And we started all over with the reaching to take it off, and trying to transfer it to my tongue, and wiping it with a finger. In the end I figured that I'd help him since he'd been so good and didn't have meltdown over the ordeal even though he was incredibly tired. I got the wash cloth and ever so gently wiped his tongue when he put it out for me. I said, "there" in a final way as if it was all taken care of. And I quickly ushered him past the mirror.

It almost worked.