Sunday Newscape Magazine

I must have led a very sheltered - or at least a very clean - existence before I got married, because I somehow managed to get through almost three decades of life without knowing about the five-second rule. You know, the rule that says it’s OK to eat food dropped on the kitchen floor as long as you pick it up within five seconds. Turns out that germs are apparently polite enough to count to five before they attach themselves to goodies. Who knew?

I naively assumed my husband was the only person crazy enough to buy this theory, but I found out later that a lot of people (oddly enough, almost all of them men) also believe in mannerly microorganisms. And when I had a son, I discovered that he seemed to have been born knowing the five-second rule. It certainly comes in handy for an enthusiastic eater with butter fingers like my boy.

Now I have to say that I still have no faith in the five-second rule, especially in our two-dog household, where dropped food items usually resemble those Troll dolls with hair sticking out in all directions.

How anyone could stick such an item in his mouth is beyond my comprehension, but it nearly happened just the other day with a Twinkie. It was the last Twinkie in the package, and that was clearly all the reason my son needed to invoke the ridiculous rule after he dropped the golden snack item on the floor. He was actually moving it – now enhanced by a whole colony of black dog hair – toward his mouth when I grabbed it.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked in a horrified tone.

“Five-second rule, Mom,” he said.

Then, as if explaining the obvious to an idiot, he added “It’s the last one!” as he lunged toward the hairy Twinkie and tried to grab it back.

I had to drop the delectable little cake down the garbage disposal to prevent my Troll eater from inhaling it, dog hair and all. He was not appreciative.

“Mom, you are so mean! A little dog hair’s not going to hurt anybody. I just can’t believe you!”

I don’t know how the kid would survive without me.

Wouldn’t it be nice if there was a five-second rule for what we comes out of our mouths rather than what we put in? Wouldn’t it be nice if each time we said something stupid or hurtful, we’d have five seconds to take it back, and if we did, no one would even know we’d said it? Now that would be a sweet treat.

I know a certain hair-eating teenager who could certainly make use of that rule.

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