Thursday, July 16, 2009
My youngest is addicted to Altoids mints. You know, those ridiculously strong ones that no two-year-old should be able to stand? I keep a tin of them in the car, and use them as bribes for convincing her to get in the car, sit in her car seat, and hold still until she is strapped in. One successful round of being buckled into the car seat equals one mint. But then I have to listen to her demanding more the entire trip to wherever we’re headed. One day, just to test her limits on the mints, I gave her one each time she asked. By the time we made it to her sister’s preschool, she’d eaten five in a row, crunching them up like peanuts. I can’t handle the mildest hot sauce, so this taste for mouth-burning mints perplexes and fascinates me much more than it should. The only down side is that her sister hates the mints, but always wants everything equal, so while the little one is munching on Altoids, the older one is demanding some sort of equal but different treat, which I never have on hand. On the flip side, one positive side effect is that when I’m lifting my youngest out of the car and she starts talking to me (she’s always talking, that one), a nice, fresh cloud of minty breath comes out of her mouth.