A few days ago Shaun went to a middle-eastern restaurant for lunch with some co-workers. When he got home, I established the rule that he had to stand atleast 3 ft away from me. The dragon breath wafting from his mouth was unbearable. He didn't believe it was that bad, so he blew in Sophie's face and asked her what his breath smelled like. Without any hesitation, she answered "garbage" (keep in mind that our garbage contains poopy diapers that sit in a hot steamy room for a couple days before going out.) The pure innocent truth, with no prompting from me. After that, he understood that he'd better just crawl into a hole and be by himself for about a day. Poor Shauny baby, banished from his own family. At times, that boy's breath can compete with the best of them (taxi drivers with garlic halitosis that fills the cab and makes you dry heave when you get in.) In Shaun's defense, it's the food here--the garlic that has lodged itself deep down in his body. I need someone to send us some strong altoids!