Lil E explains: The swine flu

I spent the day in swine flu hell. Of course, of course...it could have been a lot more hellish. I was just researching and writing about it. All the live-long day. Since I'd much rather write about periods, boobs and Britney's latest conquest over sugar, it was almost as bad as going on and on about pharmaceutical recalls or flat abs. Regardless, there I was, sitting at my desk with the CDC reports on pigs all day. I am pretty sure I developed a mild cough and fatigue just doing that.

My day reminded me of my brother, not because he is a big old bacon lover, but because he's a reformed vegetarian who now eats chicken but has never eaten pork. Why? Because, as he has always and will probably forevermore says, "I don't dig on swine."

Today, as I updated the confirmed cases count, I wasn't either.

Given the school Lil E goes to and the thoroughness of his teacher and the curiosity he has for all the things I blog about (and why that doesn't include a young Obi Wan or pod racing), I wasn't surprised that he was already well-informed on swine flu by the time I explained to him that is what I spent the day writing about for work.

"Yeah," he nodded knowingly at me, "I know, I know allllllll about swine flu. It's a sickness that means you have to really wash your hands, ESPECIALLY down in the cracks."

So, yes. The four-year old got it. In all the sort of squeaky clean crevices And later, when I teased him about how dirty his hands were after t-ball practice, I told him we didn't want any swine flu hanging out under his nails.

"Mommy," he said defiantly but smiling, "this isn't how swine flu works!"

I asked him to explain how it does work and here's what the kid had to say.

"Swine flu happens when a leeeeetle pig sneaks into your house and snuggles up to you in your bed when you sleeping. And the pig has a leeeeeeetle cough and ACHOO! ACHOO!, the piggy sneezes on you and then POW!, you get the swine flu."

And then there is a pause. The pause that would be silent except for wheels turning inside the brain of a precocious preschooler. I quietly unbuckled the car seat, keeping my eyes on him, trying not to smile as I wait...wait...waited for it.

"Orrrr, the piggy could just poot it up all stinky and you smell it and POW!, you get the swine flu by smelling all that stinkiness."

And there it was. The scent of bacon? The pungence of pork? Whatever it was, it was too much immersion. I was still trying not to smile. And so not digging on swine. Right down to the cracks.

Comments

[furiousball]

the stinkiness does smell very stinky afterall, it totally makes sense