I kept hearing a RRR RRR RRR while I showered.

I dismissed it as a motor from Chris’s rechargeable shaver. I showered on, knowing Miles was safe in the bathroom with me, and occupied with something.

The RRR RRR RRR was the sound of the spools inside the mint flavored Glide dental floss container, reeling at a regular but urgent pace. My son loves mint. He craves toothpaste (I know, I know, most paste is poisonous in large amounts), mint flavored floss, and most recently, After Eight chocolate mints.

Miles was desperate. We hid the After Eights this week, right after our toddler began asking for them for breakfast. We transitioned Miles onto kid-safe toothpaste five weeks ago. The floss, however, was still fair game, and Miles needed his fix. Yesterday, in the bathroom, in the safety and anonymity of the steam from his mom’s shower, he got his dose.

Miles cranked out yards and yards of dental floss. When it was new, the pack contained 43.7 yards; I’d say half of that amount was on or near my son yesterday morning. Some of it sat in a loose figure eight on the window sill, but more was draped around his neck, like multiple strands of pearls. I was too wet to get the camera and capture it. I just now tried to recreate the scene but it’s not the same.

At one point, Miles had tufts in each fist, with one strand forming a bridge between his hands. He made a motion to bring the minty strand to his lips, but the cord was too slack, and he missed, twice, and ended up merely licking air, confused.

That’s when I cracked. I had been trying to look solemn, or at least not look as amused as I felt. This is perhaps my biggest parental flaw; I can’t scorn him for playing with stuff I’ve left within his grasp, especially stuff that I’ve encouraged him to interact with previously. This philosophy might come back to bite me hard, in fact I am sure it will, but I’ll cross that minty slippery bridge when I get to it.