Next Time Just Ask

“My mouth has a funny taste in it,” the boy said. Even for the boy, that was a pretty random statement to make. He was watching cartoons at that particular moment and had not eaten breakfast. In fact, he was still in his PJ’s. I was busy trying to help the Wife get ready for her parents visit today; thus, I didn’t really have time to consider random statements about weird tastes in the boy’s mouth. So, I did what every parent does when they hear something strange from their kid, I ignored it.

After breakfast, the boy complained again about the weird tastes in his mouth. By this time, he’d eaten a breakfast of waffles and syrup. At this point, it occurred to me that he’s been on a kick where he thinks every little abnormality requires some sort of medical attention. He’ll spot a red mark on his arm that’s barely visible and decide it’s a spider bite. He’ll complain that he’s injured his finger and that he can’t move it. He’ll insist it needs ice and that we need to look at it. He’ll see a freckle for the first time on his arm and worry he has some rare disease. Clearly, it’s some sort of phase. I figure the funny-taste-in-the-mouth thing is another manifestation of the phase.

So I ignore it again.

I’m finishing some vacuuming when the boy comes up to me and says “Dad, I’ve got a funny taste in my mouth, can I have a mint?”

And everything immediately comes in to focus.

I’d gone to watch UCONN battle Michigan last night with some friends and one of the items I’d picked up for the evening was Altoids. Curiously strong, as they say. I returned home from the game late in the night. Or, early in the morning if you prefer. I’d emptied my pockets upon returning and had placed the Altoids on the island in our kitchen.

The boy had spotted them this morning when he came down and had decided he really wanted an Altoid. They were the “wintergreen” flavor, a favorite of his, making them even more irresistible to him. Rather than ask me straight out, “Dad, can I have an Altoid?” he decided on a different strategy. Thus, the whole “funny taste in my mouth” story line. It was a scheme to justify his asking for the mint to expunge the “weird” taste in his mouth.

Now, it’s perfectly reasonable to object to my conclusion at this point. Wouldn’t he just ask for it if he wanted one? Why make something up like this all for a breath mint? I won’t pretend to totally understand the boy’s mentality, other than to say he’s deduced that, generally, creating a pretext improves the odds he’ll get what he wants.

I did test my theory in real time, though. I confronted him, playfully. He got a big smile on his face and then turned away to avoid my eye contact. He then replied in a whiny voice “Wwwwwwwwhhaaaaaaat? So, can I have one?” I think most parents will recognize this as a universal kid language for guilty.

I told him to go ahead and have one. Take two even. But next time, just ask.