Eureka! Pavlov's dog
I hear him shriek, grab a pristine bath towel and fly to the family room.
“Eureka! I've got diarrhea! Eureka! I've got diarrhea! Eureka! I've got diarrhea!”
His delivery of this message is in 'motor mouth,' robot mode. I dive onto the carpet next to him, a curled nak.ed prawn. I place the towel in position and seek further information.
“Does your tummy hurt lovey?”
“Eureka! I've got diarrhea! Eureka! I've got diarrhea! Eureka! I've got diarrhea!” I place a palm on his stomach and bring an ear closer to see if there's any gurgling.
“Coldie, coldie, coldie,” he squeaks.
I feel his forehead for a fever.
“Coldie, coldie, coldie,” he squalks. I think perhaps my hands are cold rather than he is hot, but maybe not? I run his diet through my inventory checker in case I have inadvertently poisoned him. This seems so unlikely as my little neophobe is still stuck on 17 foods. It is next to impossible to imagine that he might have added poison to his diet without me noticing. There again, if you only eat 17 things, perhaps number 18 would be poisonous whatever it was, just for sheer shock value of novelty?
“What it is?”
“What is what dear?” I nibble my lip.
“Er……dah 'Eureka'?”
“Um Eureka means…..sort of….. 'wow, look what I've discovered,' sort of a thing, or it's a place in Northern California, and probably elsewhere come to think of it.” I wonder where else it is, as a huge burp erupts from my son.
“Oopsie. Sorry my body.” Excellent instant response. Hallelujah!
“Ooo what good manners you have dear.”
“Eureka! I've got diarrhea! Eureka! I've got diarrhea! Eureka! I've got diarrhea!” his delivery is 'sing song' mode. I am uncertain if this is a good sign or a bad sign? Has delierum set in?
“What it is?”
“What is what dear?”
“Dah 'diarrhea'?”
“You mean you don't have diarrhea?”
“I don know?”
“What don't you know?” Somehow that didn't come out quite right.
“I don know if I am have dah diarrhea beCOZ I don know what dah diarrhea is being!”
“What do you think it is being….er……I mean….what do you think 'diarrhea' is?”
“I fink it is 3.”
“3? Do you mean three syllables?”
“Yes. 'Dye' 'a' 'rea'…..see….three!”
I now have 48 hours to remove this word from his lexicon before the start of school.
“It is dah perfect.”
“You think!” I have news for you matey! If you think you're going to go around repeating this you've got another thing coming!
“It is be my new song.” Not on your nelly!
“Maybe we can make a new song, a better son, the best song.” I wonder if he can detect the desperation in my voice.
“No fanks. It is dah perfect one. Dah 3, dah 3, dah 3.”
He's right of course, when you listen to the syllables of the whole sentence, it is a unique chorus, a refrain that I shall have to retrain.
October 12th, 2007 at 11:42 pm
Well, he does have an excellent grasp on the rhythms of the English language, doesn’t he?
October 13th, 2007 at 12:20 am
eek! the way i say it it has 4 syllables – maybe his desire for the 3 syllable word might wane if he thought it had 4? “eureka, i’ve got a squeaker!’ …sneaker, …speaker?
October 13th, 2007 at 1:50 am
Ah the joys of teaching English as a foreign language, eh? His world allows much joy admist the confusion, doesn’t it? You are an inspiring interpreter Maddy, I’m sure he found an equally wonderful, if less alarming refrain by the time he left the house?
October 13th, 2007 at 3:01 am
Hi Maddy,
I’m hearing alternative versions of the rhyme such as “gotta run quick, to do a sh#@!” or “gotta do a pi#@, hope I don’t miss!”
(Sorry, I couldn’t resist!)
Good luck with the retraining!!!
October 13th, 2007 at 4:06 am
I have every faith that you can retrain!!
October 13th, 2007 at 5:33 am
Tell him it has four syllables Then it won’t be perfect anymore.
Unfortunately, our house IS so blessed. Again. What have I fed these children???
October 13th, 2007 at 5:52 am
Glad he wasn’t sick. Best of luck retraining!
October 13th, 2007 at 7:32 am
I don’t know which would be worse….a real poopy explosion or the ongoing little ditty. Cute at the same time!
October 13th, 2007 at 12:24 pm
Interesting. LOL
I would have rather my daughter had said diarrhea than some of the things that did come out of her mouth. My solution was to give her brother a quarter whenever she said the words. It didn’t take long for it to stop. Then there was the “b” word to which I would smile and reply: “Thanks, earned the title, darn proud of it.”
October 13th, 2007 at 12:31 pm
Oh, was this ever funny!
I love your ability to find the humor in any situation. I wish I had been born with that skill.
October 13th, 2007 at 12:35 pm
Just so you know, the neurotypical boys (now 29 and 27) drove me bonkers for months, probably 21 years ago (!!!!!) with the diarrhea ditty. Sheesh. I finally had to convince myself that totally acting like it wasn’t happening was the only road to extinction.
October 13th, 2007 at 2:40 pm
Tell him if he continues, he’ll really get diarrhea. Oh, the joys.
October 13th, 2007 at 6:01 pm
LOL… I worked with a little 7-year-old boy with autism who was always getting stuck on weird words like that! Diarrhea was one of them. In the middle of a math lesson or Morning Circle he’d suddenly start cracking up and hollering, “Diarrhea! Haha, diarrhea!” Other words he loved were “Diapers” and calling his teacher “Tinklebird”. Goofballs!
October 13th, 2007 at 6:34 pm
lol..what a sweet one…u have the greatest gift of all Maddy: a sense of humor~!~
October 13th, 2007 at 9:11 pm
For me, the “Eureka” balances out the other. Were I to encounter him at school, his car song wouldn’t phase me much at all. It’s intriguing…at the very least, effusive and delivered with conviction.
October 14th, 2007 at 4:43 am
Diarrhoea has FOUR syllables!