My son gets exited about hiccups. He’ll make a bee line towards me and yell, “Daddy daddy, tell me a scary story.”
After a moment’s reflection about the odd juxtaposition I’ll jump right in.
Curing Hiccups With Reality
“Son,” I’ll tell him, “let me tell you something really scary.”
The first time Yuri asked for a hiccups cure, I told him about the fresh water fiend. “It will suction cup onto your leg and drink you.”
In my defense I was getting ready for work.
My son loves fruit. He can make a pint of berries disappear in five minutes flat. So, when he begged to watch a video of lampreys biting people and my wife gave him a choice of that or a bowl full of strawberries, to our surprise lampreys won.
The video showed a man purposefully allowing a small river vampire attach to his neck, hang there for a bit, and then be awkwardly pulled off like the world’s worst band-aid.
He was sitting on his mother’s lap as she looked away in disgust.
It was a shared moment between men, or “boys” as my wife called us. And hiccups well forgotten, Yuri advocated for “just one more short short lamprey video”. I clicked as wife reminded about the time, and got up before it was done.
At the door I looked back into the loving eyes of my woman, and her grim forbearing expression. I held onto a shred of available wisdom and grinned proudly only after I stepped out.
My son likes gory things. We will watch monster movies together and talk about disemboweling demonic hordes.
But he’s not yet five.
My mom says her brother took her to see the original Blob when she was four. She only got in because she was tall enough to pass for five, the required age back then.
A lot of scary movies and mother hasn’t turned out too crazy.
Modern horror is a bit much, though I might pull out a classic for extended hiccups treatment. I’m not sure how I’ll explain black and white.
Consciously offsetting the fantasy he’s been soaking up
I’ve been treating his hiccups with creepy things from nature, like the lamprey. It’s educational, fascinating, and doesn’t give him nightmares…. Like the little monsters in the vents that come out after nine if he keeps sneaking out of bed; eat him from the toes up, and then drag the leftovers back to their den for their hatchlings.
Which reminds me, I need to wake him up so he doesn’t wet the bed.