a cautionary tale of absolute tr-oof

originally posted July 6, 2007


There are really nothing but downsides associated with feeding your child a food that is a novel color not normally associated with that food. I can't really think of all of these downsides now, but I also can't think of any upsides. My point is this – if you give your child gatorade that is electric blue in color, you are eventually going to encounter that gatorade again in one form or another, and you will most likely be surprised. Because you know what'll give you a startle? Bright blue oof.* And it will take you a moment to process why the oof is at all blue, because you will have forgotten about giving the child the gatorade, and your experience will instead be one of absolute horror: OH MY GOD, WHAT IN HOLY…Until you remember. Oh yeah. Blue gatorade…

I had the most horrifying moment of inappropriately colored food related confusion yesterday. The little BS woke up in the morning with a smidge of a fever and the slightest congestion, and by the afternoon the fever was down to practically nothing. However, when he woke up from his nap, he was 103 degrees, struggling to breathe, and barking like a seal. By the time I was on the phone with the nurse he was 104, and by the time we arrived at the emergency room around the corner he was 105. It was pretty quick, this fever. I should mention that this last temperature was taken rectally, a process that the BS, Jr. seemed to regard as absolute bull oof. Anyway, there the little guy was, flopped over my lap, barking and screaming and crying and having a thermometer poked in his hiney, when suddenly he threw up all over me – vast, vast quantities of bright red glop. Everyone in the room was quite alarmed over this development, particularly me: OH MY GOD, WHAT IN HOLY... Until I remembered. Oh yeah. Red velvet cake… And then we all had a tiny chuckle, the medical professionals and our party, once we figured out it wasn't blood that was spewing forth from his wee, wailing mouth, but rather festively tinted Fourth of July cake.

The diagnosis? Croup. Some mist through a nebulizer, a shot of steroids, and today the Tiny Curly Banshee is running around, free of fever and barks, talking like Harvey Fierstein.

Phew.

***

* Oof: (üf), noun, verb. The word once used by my young daughter to refer to all things scatalogical, e.g. Mama, hava oof, or Look mama! Oof! or I oof! Still sometimes used by mama to convey disbelief, e.g., Dude, you are full of oof.