Swedish fishin'

It's a beautiful thing when the salmon of the Pacific Northwest do their thing; own their journey-up the down staircase.

Too, it's a beautiful thing how a first grader can justify what could be done upon encountering the red deliciousness that is "Swedish fish." 

"Just walk away," says Dr. Johnessee D.D.S. (who on one occasion invited our daughter to hurry though her education; he'd be glad to consider putting his life's work, his company, in her capable eight year old hands.  She considered it).

My son is growing into his teeth and, the teeth, like the head they're growing in, are fine with taking their own sweet time. 
(Can the child be infinitely surprised every time the rest of his family is walking out the front door?   His two hour countdown to departure is unreasonably short.)
He doesn't have a sweet tooth.  He'd pick a pretzel over a sweet treat any day.* 
*condition is void in the presence of Swedish fish. 

The spaces between his teeth in the back are like the closing gates of Raiders of the Lost Ark, except with much commercial interruption or, if you'd rather, in a moment of nostalgia put in a VHS of the series, then decide you should have a quick pee, then make the bed because the dryer just stopped and the redeeming quality of making the bed is the heat that rises from fresh-from-the-dryer sheets (where were we, yes, my son's sense of urgency), then you decide to go down stairs and sort the bills--for next pay period, get delayed there because there are four pens and you need to see what one of them writes best...and this one writes so well, I bet it could draw just about anything if it was under my control.  If only I had a paper my sister hadn't already wrote on in her way of "claiming."  Awe, here's one!  And it shall be a paper Darth Vader airplane in no time.  Speaking of time, he's unaware any of it has gone by.  Press play on the VHS and let the gate close.

Normal.

"Son, don't eat that candy before you go to bed." 

"Why?"  He questions like I've just told him sometimes lions have to eat baby wildebeest... He's beautiful when he does this.

I reiterate, "Dr. Johnessee told you not to eat Swedish Fish."
To which he does not show understanding of his growth situation and the fact his molars will close their gaps in due time.  Instead goes for a bigger argument.  Next level stuff.  One worthy of an ear, a jury.

"So."  He says, "We are talking about fish, right?"

Some fish are meant to be caught, are they not?  Looking at them only causes one to want to conquer them (he's saying this with his eyes--he's wearing a shirt with a Grizzly bear on it).   Your teeth want to trap them like the trophy they are!  The juju is in you. 

I break eye contact.

(In so many words) the best way to catch a fish is with a line.

I concur.

What is dental floss? 

Touché.

I'm good at fishin' mama, "I bet I can floss them [all] out" by bed time.