Since Saturday I have been battling a bit of a cold. It started with a scratchy throat Saturday; by Sunday it had worsened. I'm drinking Airborne, taking Vitamin C, taking Advil Cold & Sinus, spraying with Chloroseptic, and sucking on Vick's Sore Throat Lozenges. I MUST be well so that I can hold Hayden when we get to Georgia. I WILL be better.
Mason loves to smell my breath while I have a cough drop or throat lozenge in my mouth. For days he has been sniffing my breath. I've moved the throat lozenges from the coffee table as he inquisitively sniffed them. Last night when I moved from the bedroom to the sofa in an effort not to disturb Dave, I was disturbed by Mason. Just as I would start to doze off, Mason would meander by for a good sniff of the sweet cherry smell.
Tonight, Dave went upstairs to work. As I cleaned the kitchen, Mason made the laps then disappeared. Just as I was finishing, I heard Mason, rather I didn't hear Mason. But then I did. He was chomping on something. At first, I thought it was just him gnawing on his Nyla-bone, but as any good mother, I left the sink to check on the "too-quiet-ness." When I turned the corner, Mason was lying on the rug in the living room with his Nylabone, I almost turned around, but something caught my eye--a pack of the throat lozenges and his bowed head (the bow that says, "I really can't help myself; I'm sorry"). Mason had opened one and was chomping on it. He had already pierced a second and was preparing to enjoy it. While he was making the rounds downstairs, he went into the bedroom and took the throat lozenges from my bedside table. What a rascal!
This story is classic! Reminds me of the time Ginger, who has quite the sweet tooth, got into some fry bread made especially for us by Tanya. She scarfed down the whole batch. We found tin foil and a mangled paper plate on the floor when we returned home from a visit to the grocery store. Hell hath no fury like a hungry dog . . .
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