Every couple days one of the kids will be eating her meal and get a funny look on her face. “Say ‘daddy’!” Amy and I demand, freaking out a little. “Daddy!” They’re still talking, they’re not choking, everything is fine despite the momentary panic. This is enough of a routine that they say it to each other. “Em, say ‘Soso’!” “Soso!” “There, you better.”
Tonight it was a real emergency, Em couldn’t say “Mommy”, she had a green bean stuck in her throat. We’re turning her upside down, slapping her on the back, fishing around in her mouth, and eventually she spits out green beans. And then some other bits from her meal. And then some pieces of lunch, and then some of what you can’t tell what it is anymore. Em’s covered herself in barf, all while on Amy’s lap, and included some of Amy’s lap in the spray. She’s not choking anymore, so everything’s fine. Still, Soso is freaking out and her stomach begins to heave. Amy looks at her pants and covers her mouth, gagging. We are on the verge of a puke-a-palooza, as Amy said later. We cleaned up fast and managed to keep everybody else from being sick.
While Amy’s getting cleaned up, Em is busy making a sign on the fridge. “No choking,” she explains.
A few minutes later, Em and Soso are busy trying to use their rocking horse to reach a wastebasket on our desk. Em elaborates on her sign, listing a series of rules for her and her sister.
“Six. Don’t choke your sister.”
“Oh. Don’t waste the power of the world.”
“Four. Don’t get your hiney up there. Don’t get the trash bin!”
I’m not sure where she learned the word “hiney”, I don’t think Amy and I have ever said that. I might not be quoting her 100% accurately. But I do know she won’t choke her sister.
Oatmeal Brains 