Bubble Gum

My daughter has finally learned how to blow bubbles with gum. You would think this would be something all kids could do, part of the kids’ bill of rights, but it isn’t so. My daughter struggled to blow gum. We’d buy packs and packs of it, and I’d have to give lessons to her in front of the mirror. Relatives and friends jumped in and gave their techniques.

She would chew frequently, and I hollered “Practice, practice, practice!” my standard lame words of encouragement whenever she is learning something new. The bubble gum wrappers piled up, and I worried about the sugar on her teeth.

Well, the struggle finally paid off, and she can now blow a proper bubble. Trouble is, she is doing it wrong, in my opinion, but she has struggled so long I don’t want to tell her. She puts two fingers in her mouth when she does it, to hold down one end of what I call the gum wall, and sticks her tongue out in a disturbing manner while she blows.

She likes to get really close to me when she does it, to make sure that I see it, and then blows grape smell all over me and spittle. Why couldn’t she be obsessed with something that doesn’t involve spit and getting gum stuck all over the place? I’m about ready to ban gum from our house.

She is so proud; I hate to tell her she’s doing it wrong. Perhaps it will all straighten out in time, or maybe she’ll get over this obsession.

Soon, I’ll tell her about the woman in Kentucky who was on the Guinness World Records show. She could blow bubbles by placing the gum over her nostrils. Not yet, though. I’ll wait until the stress of the holidays is over.