Giant Red Gumball of Death!

by Shirley Bahlmann
It was evening, and I was puttering around the house, clearing away a little clutter here and there. I even cleaned out my purse, and that's where I found the giant red gumball of death.
I'm sure that my nine-year-old did not know it's true nature when he stashed it in my purse weeks ago. Neither did I when, in a mindless sort of way, I put it in my mouth and tried to chew. It was as hard as a jawbreaker. Ah, a challenge! I was up for it. I persisted, and finally broke through the outer shell to the tough sugary center that had the consistency of a super ball. I was surprised by some little bits of candy that fell out of the middle, and a blob of sugary moisture slid down the wrong tube in my throat.
Let me tell you, air does not travel well through sugar. My breath came in increasingly small amounts until I wasn't getting any air at all. My almost 18-year-old, Zackary, was passing through the room just then, and I grabbed his sleeve. He turned around, took one look at my fish face with my mouth going open and closed, open and closed, then dashed behind me, placed both fists under my ribs, and gave me several sharp squeezes of the Heimlich maneuver. The blasts of air seemed to loosen the sugar blob, and my breathing gradually got easier.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Yeah. Thanks," I said, then spit the gum out. It wasn't worth my life.
So, don't despair of your teenagers. Keep feeding them, because you never know - one day they may save your life!

By Gum! Bazooka to the rescue!

I don't know about your house, but around here, tape is a luxury. Trying to find some when you need it is like looking for gold in the Mississippi River. Sometimes, though, you really, really need tape, and nothing else will do. "Hold still, Junior, and let me staple this note to your forehead."
Bob and I are headed out for a craft fair, and our teenage sons are staying home to take care of our pets, watch movies, and eat absolutely everything in the house. Since I'm the family's designated rabbit tender (no one else wants the little long-eared darlings), it wasn't too surprising when my 16-year-old admitted that he doesn't even remember we have pet rabbits until he's outside and sees their hutch. So I had to post a list of the things the boys needed to do while I was gone. I couldn't have my Netherland Dwarfs shrink away to nothing. So I wrote a list to tape on the door, but WHERE WAS THE TAPE? I looked in several places, everywhere, in fact, except the place where the tape was. What could I do? Staples don't work on a metal door, and I couldn't think of another place obvious enough for the all important note.
But then, just as I was about to scrawl the essential reminders on the wall in lipstick, I saw the bowl of old Halloween candy sitting on the refrigerator. What was this? Bazooka bubble gum? Oh, yeah!
I chewed a piece until it was pliable, then pulled it apart and glued the two upper corners of the note to the front door. Not only is the note in plain sight, it has a natural teenage attractant smell. I mean, what kid can resist bubble gum? (No, I don't expect there to be any leftover Halloween candy on our return.)
Hm. I wonder if rabbits like bubble gum?