~Toothy Conversations~

Our usual pre-bedtime conversation...

Me:  "Did you brush your teeth?"

Eamon:  "Uh-huh."

Me:  "And floss?"

Eamon:  "Yep."

Me:  "Let me check.  Open up."

After nearly having to pry his mouth open to check...

Me:  "EAMON!"

Eamon:  <innocently> "What?"

Me:  "There is a CARROT stuck in your front teeth!  A WHOLE carrot!"

(Ok, it was more like a whole carrot sliver than a whole carrot but still!)

Eamon:  <uncomfortably silent at being caught in his badly executed tooth brushing & flossing> 

Me:  "If you brushed and flossed then why is there a CARROT stuck in your teeth?!"

Eamon:  "I don't know."

After being forced to brush and floss while under close surveillance...

Me:  "Good night, sweetie.  I love you.  <under my breath> Even though your teeth are going to rot out of your head."

Eamon:  "They will not!"

Me:  "Sure they will, unless you learn to start brushing and flossing properly.  But don't worry because then you can get some cool pointy metal teeth so you can look like a shark.  But you have to be at least 18 when you lose your teeth and get metal replacements so that I don't have to pay for them, ok?"

Eamon:  <resigned>  "Ok, fine."

Me:  "Sweet dreams!" 

Ok, so the carrot stuck in his teeth wasn't quite this big...

but close! ;) 

 

~Scratchy Conversations~

As I was trying to get Eamon to get into the shower...

Eamon:  <despondently> "Mommyyyy... can you come here?"

Me:  "What is it?"

Eamon:  "You have to come here."

Me:  "What do you have to tell me in the bathroom that you can't tell me in the TV room?"

Eamon:  "You just need to come here."

Even though it couldn't be too severe of a problem since he was calmly staring at me while standing naked in the hallway, I decided to go see what he wanted. 

Eamon:  <pointing sadly at three scraches on his ankle that he got several days ago while we were walking the dog and took a wrong turn through brambles>  "When are these scars going to go away?"

Me:  "Those are scratches, not scars and they will definitely be gone in three years, if not sooner."

Eamon:  "Three years!?  But I'll be eleven then!"

Me:  "I know.  And the scratches will be gone by then.  If not, I promise we'll go to the doctor."

Eamon:  *sigh*

Ahh, my little hypochondriac! ;) 

~Alert Conversations~

While discussing whether or not one of Eamon's classmates should join him in the ALERT (honors) program at school...

Eamon:  "Well, ALERT does help you step up a level to knowledge."

Me:  "Is that the program's motto?"

Eamon:  "No, I just made that up."

Me:  "Really?!"

Eamon:  "Yeah."

Me:  "I see."

Eamon then went on to expound on all the wonders of his ALERT program... 

Me:  "Why don't you tell your friend all of that and see if that convinces him?"

Eamon:  <seriously>  "Ok. I'll do my best to convince him to join ALERT."

Me:  <laughing at his exagerrated seriousness>  "Well, if anyone can do it, it's you!"

Eamon:  <solemnly>  "Thanks."