We were driving to preschool on Thursday.
Augie: "I don't get my butt."
Me: "What is it that you don't understand?"
I took off my earmuffs to hear better, but his little voice couldn't entirely pierce the noise of the engine, the fan valiantly trying to warm the car, and the square tires galumphing over ice ruts and potholes. So what I heard sounded like, "Mfff nuddle shpin Pa said norple glang beezer." He continued for a while, and he seemed to be working through a confusing situation. Then, clarity.
Augie: "I didn't eat enough pressure."
Me: "Are you saying you're still hungry?"
Augie: "No, I'm not hungry. I'm talking about my butt. I didn't eat enough pressure."
Later, Pa helped me figure it out. Augie is a prodigious eater of fruits and vegetables, oat cereals, and other foods that make him a champion pooper. Everyone celebrates this.
But his first attempt that morning was a rare occurrence for him, involving an enormous struggle, a bit of pain, and a clot of nasty little marbles. Soon after, he was back to form, producing two excellent specimens. Pa explained once again about how the right foods produce easy, healthy poop. But during our drive, Augie was still puzzling over what had gone wrong.
In his experience, when you want to move something through a tube, you apply pressure. Hence his conclusion: "I didn't eat enough pressure."
As long as we can equate "pressure" with fiber, this kid's going to be a champion.