Muted by sputum
You want to know something? It's really hard to teach a three-year-old how to clear his throat. Not in the "ahem-beg-your-pardon" sort of way, but in that guttural, hock-a-loogie sort of way, between the snort and the ptooey.
Let's backtrack. A pox has fallen upon our house in the form of large, localized phlegmballs. We learned this when Robert woke up yesterday with no voice. He padded sleepily out of his bedroom, and his morning "Hi Daddy!" came out as a couple of squeaky barks. His eyes widened and he gripped his throat, looking like a mad scientist who's just drunk the potion. He was scared shitless, and it's easy to see why. A voice is an easy thing to take for granted when you've never lost it before. It must be like waking up and finding your legs across the room.
On my way out the door, I brought him into the bathroom, cranked the hot water in the shower, and told him the steam would help get his voice back. He apparently seized on that and insisted on several trips to the steambath throughout the day, thus learning the salutary effect of a good schvitz.
Soon after I got home, I gathered my sons on the big bed and tried to teach them how to expel sputum from their throats with that special, masculine flourish. (On the list of things a dad must pass down to his son, this is a biggie. Somewhere between how to light your farts and how to burp the alphabet.) Thus began the conversation:
Me: Try it like this: Haaaaaaaaawk!
Robert: Grrrrrrrr.
Me: A little more with the throat. Haaaaaaaallgghhggh.
Robert: Haaarrrr.
Me: Better. Keep trying. Haaaaarrkklll.
Robert: Halllllllll.
Me: Haaaawwwwllkghghghgh.
Robert: Haarrlglgl.
At this point, my wife walked in for some final preparations before she left for the evening. And just as we stopped our urbane little snot-alogue to say goodbye, TwoBert looked up and sent Mama a big drooly raspberry.
Whereupon she turned on her heel, ostensibly in search of more dignified company.
I remember waking up one morning when I was 3 or 4 and not being able to open my eyes. I must have been recovering from a cold, and my eyelashes had crusted with eye boogers (whatever the scientific name is). It *did* scare the heck out of me! Being a kid is a goofy goofy experience.
P.S. Haaaawwwwllkghghghghaawwwwllkghghghgh!
Posted by: dansroka | October 26, 2005 at 08:19
Don't forget that armpit-farting-sound trick. That's a rite of passage too.
Also, regarding Two-Berts response last night, have you been taking him to the Bronx?
Posted by: L Man | October 26, 2005 at 08:28
The pox has invaded our DC home as well. Since dad is not around much, those disgusting male rites of passage fall on my shoulders, mom to sons (ages 4 and 5). We have had our fair share of "snot-alogues" in the past few days. I understand the needs of men to obnoxiously remove mucus from orifices of their bodies. And, I am ok with helping them with the snot thing only!
Posted by: caasmom | October 26, 2005 at 11:42
Wow. Words I love in this post: pox, phlegm, guttural, schvitz, and snot-alogue. Sputum kind of makes me throw up in my mouth a little, but the others I'll be using all day now.
Hoping Robert gets his lost voice back soon; as Elizabeth Bishop said, the art of losing isn't hard to master. The art of clearing one's throat properly is.
Posted by: Nothing But Bonfires | October 26, 2005 at 11:57
I'm still working on nose blowing with my 17 month old. What age to they master this? I'd be curious to read a research study that examines the amount of time parents spend tackling mucous extraction.
You blog cracks me up and I enjoy your writing style. I stumbled upon it during a very slow day at the office last week. Good luck with the loogies(sp?)
Posted by: Carolyn | October 26, 2005 at 13:40
I need a hanky, 'cause I'm laughing so hard I'm crying.
Posted by: liz | October 26, 2005 at 16:56
Oooh, I learned this one young, due to lifelong visits to the ENT doctors. But I was a natural. I think after a while, I sounded yiddish, trying to clear my throat whilst speaking. That was unpopular at age 4. But I was still a little mensch.
Posted by: Meg | October 26, 2005 at 20:16
I am very gratified to see that all the GoogleAds pertinent to this post involve home saunas. After this week, I think I want one.
Think the landlord will be pissed?
Posted by: LOD | October 27, 2005 at 12:20
I've never been witness to what your wife saw. Then again, we have five daughters and my husband just sits catatonic in the corner repeating "Yes, dear. Yes, sweetheart. Yes, pumpkin. Yes, princess."
It's rather sad really...
Posted by: JustLinda | October 27, 2005 at 13:46
My son's father taught him how to light up his farts.
I've been teaching my son how to blow his nose for, let's see, forever.
He'll be 16 in December. He still blows bubbles of snot through his nose.
I'm so proud.
Posted by: Scully | October 27, 2005 at 14:54
This was a great entry.
I never knew that hawking was taught. No wonder.
Posted by: R J Keefe | October 28, 2005 at 01:12
you are a good dad--- carrying on our proud tradition..
Posted by: walter | November 07, 2005 at 22:55
don't the loogie police come for you if you share details of this stuff?
Posted by: victor | November 25, 2005 at 01:30