Hiccups

For those of you who know me in the real world, you know that when I get the hiccups, I get the hiccups. Not the cute, dainty giggle as you hiccup kind, but the loud, embarrassing silence a room kind.

I found myself in this condition at one point this afternoon. Aveline, the astute observer in charge of the toddler inquisition, asked me a simple question shortly after their onset.

"Mommy, you have the hiccups?"

I was proud of the question she posed, being so observant and inquisitive. I rewarded her curiosity with a cheerful response.

"Yes, Aveline. I have the hiccups."

That satisfied her and she focused again on scribbling orange circles on a piece of scrap paper.

"Hic."

"Mommy, you have the hiccups?" she queried, not breaking her gaze downward at her blossoming artwork.

"Yes, Aveline." I replied. "I have the hiccups."

She did not respond, but rather changed her circles to dots.

"Hic."

"Mommy, you have the hiccups?"

"Yes, Aveline. I have the hiccups."

"Hic."

"Mommy..."

This exchange continued for at least 10 minutes while I crafted her turkey on whole wheat with cheese and grapes, her favorite lunch. No matter how many times I told her that I did indeed possess a case of the hiccups, she doubted her diagnosis of me.