Hello Snail Breath

Landon has been known to put a few handfuls of dirt in his mouth or chew on a few rocks every now and again. B.O.Y. Clearly the reason for "stick and snails and puppy dogs tails" types of nursery rhymes.

Anyway, the other day I saw him gagging while he was standing over by the vegetable garden. Of course my first instinct is to have a heart attack. The next is to panic and think that he is choking on a rock. As I rush to his side, I notice something sticky in his hand and half of a crushed snail on the bed of rocks under his feet.

I shove my finger in the shape of a hook in his mouth and dig for anything I can. But of course he bites down with all his might, not wanting to let go of his French culinary brunch that he found in the garden.

I peel whatever was left of the snail out of his hand and throw it on the ground, trying to contain my gag reflex, and dive in for round two.

Ugh. I hit something hard at the roof of his mouth. Slowly pulling it out for examination...yes, just as I feared: Snail shell.

Now comes the dry heaving. By me, not him.

Landon, safe from choking, now smiles big and moves in for a kiss. Kids get over the most traumatic events with the greatest of ease.

Why thank you little pants-less snail breath.