Treasures

"Nicholas," I call out, turning around to look at him. "Nicholas," I say louder when he doesn't so much as blink from battling evil space invaders. Finally hollering across the 5 foot space between us. "Nick!"

He turns, looking at me blankly, pushing his glasses back up on his nose, shaking his head a bit to get the hair out of his eyes.

"Yes Mama," he answers cautiously, eyes going behind me to the plate I have just uncovered.

"What exactly is this?" I ask, pointing to the closet shelf, while being extra cautious not to touch my finger to whatever the heck it is.

I'd gone on a bit of a cleaning jag, taking the three day weekend to rid us of 15 black garbage bags of McDonald's toys, and other random crap. A task I should obviously tackle with much more enthusiasm and regularity.

"That Mama," he replies, getting up and clearing his throat just a bit as if he has the most important proclamation of his lifetime to present to me. "Is a future Guinness World Record."

"It is," I say inching a bit closer to have a better look. "I don't imagine they have a category for that, honey." I inform him, reaching my finger out to poke it.

He then proceeds to tell me that every single piece of gum he has chewed for the last TWO years, now happily reside on this one large WAD of gum, this sculpture if I'm feeling really charitable. Which I assure you, I was not.

"And they do have a record, Mama. They have a category for everything and if they don't, and your idea is cool enough, they'll create a whole new record just for you."

Then, just to prove his point, he's grabbing the book off his bookshelf and leafing frantically through it, in an attempt to save his "creation” in the closet.

"It's ok," I assure him, not because I believe there is a world record for biggest gum wad but because I don't much care. I only care that it is in my house and it has the potential to grow much much bigger. And I have to admit, it kind of creeps me out that it resembles a chicken or even a deformed rooster.

I imagine the gum wad outgrowing the plate and then the shelf, spilling out into the room until it takes it over completely and we can't get it out the door and in order for the record people to come measure it, they have to tear down the wall and then we are homeless.

“Once it outgrows the plate, it goes in the garage, ok?” I tell him but only because it is creative in it's own weird shiny, slimy, spitty, germy and gummy way.