The Deli, Gum, The Digstive Tract, and Documentation

This morning, all three young'uns went with me to a nearby deli to get ham for brunch while Amy tried to catch up on sleep. As soon as we got into the store, the boys knew the protocol: you ask for a quarter for the candy machines by the door [probably not a protocol that Amy observes...]. It seemed like a pretty good deal - each of them gets a quarter ["and *only* a quarter] and they go off and keep busy with the candy dispenser while I wait, with Madeleine, for sliced boiled ham...

A couple of minutes later, Daniel appeared with a gigantic blue gum-ball and asked me what it was. I told him it was a gum-ball, but it was too big for him to chew (it had almost the diameter of a quarter, but in three dimensions...). I urged him not to attempt to chew it, and of course he wanted an explanation for that directive, which I provided, to the amusement of a lady waiting next to me at the deli. [Yes, what was I thinking?...]

A minute or two later, he reappeared and announced, with satisfaction, that the gumball in fact was not to big to chew, and he had swallowed it. That's when I sort-of lost it...

I tried to explain to him that you're not supposed to swallow gum.

"Why not?"

"Because it isn't food, and there's no food in it for your body to use, and ...it could get stuck in your system..."

This is when Ian, the digestive tract expert, provided some insights. Ian knows much more than I'm comfortable with about the (entire) digestive tract, thanks to the volume of "The Magic School Bus" where they take a field trip through their classmate Howard's system - luckily not entirely through, but nearly...

So Ian had some thoughts about where the gum-ball might get stuck:

"Daddy, do you know what it might get stuck in? The parts that it might get stuck in are the big intestine, the little intestine, and the coal."

[Sometimes imprecision is welcome...]

In the car, Ian continued his speculation: "The gum might get stuck in Daniel's esophagus."

At that point, Daniel reaffirmed his existing position on the question of gum ingestion: "Yeah,but Daddy, I like to swallow gum, not just throw it in the garbage."

He made it sound like it was the only practical thing to do, like not swallowing it was mildly profligate.

He soon made a request to go back to deli, which he called "the restaurant that has the gum that we ate"

I jotted all of this on a piece of paper on the dashboard, at which point he pointed out, "Daddy, I don't think you're supposed* to write on the car while your driving," although he did think that "the police can write on police cars." It made me wonder if Mommy had ever gotten the police to write on their police cars while she was driving, perhaps a bit fast, but I don't think that's the story. I can't imagine where he got that impression from, but of course, he's right. They *do* write on police cars, as it were, and that's what keeps most municipal budget sheets balanced...

The fun just never stopped. It's like the Heisenberg Effect - you try to document it, and the documentation becomes part of the commentary.

* Actually Daniel said "disposta" rather than "supposed to," as is his wont...

(August 29, 2009)