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Bubble Boy
Love Those Tiny Bubbles
By Mark Cloud
The moment of anxiety passed, however, and was replaced by that other sense common to all parents of toddlers – a sense of wonder. How do they do it? So I scooped up some bubbles and dabbed them on his cheek. "That's right," I said proudly. "Bah-bull." Then he started eating the bubbles, so both wonderment and bathtime were abruptly over.
After that bath, he started pointing out all sorts of other bubbles. When he saw bubble-gum pop or a soda fizz or a too-hot bowl of soup gurgling, he would say it. There was no question that he had fully grasped the concept of bubbles. But then his understanding of the concept went too far.
He was back in the tub amusing himself for far too long with a slippery bar of soap – gripping it with both hands, losing his grasp, fishing it out of the water, dropping it again – when he ... how should I say this ... was overcome by a lower intestinal disturbance.
And as he fermented, he looked up at me, smiled and said, "Bah-bull." I tried to ignore him, tried to distract him with his amusing bar of soap. But he was persistent. "Bah-bull!" he said emphatcally, pointing at his 
backside. I held the bar of soap out to him. "Soap!" I said enthusiastically. But he just stared at me, demanding a response. I couldn't argue with him; there were, in fact, bubbles. So I just nodded and grimaced, saying, "That's right son, bubbles."
If it were confined to the tub, there would be no problem. But now, regardless of where we are, every time my boy ... ahem ... ferments, he feels compelled to confirm for all present what has just happened. "Bah-bull," he'll say, gesturing to his bottom. "What did he say?" the uninitiated will ask. And I am then forced to explain the special meaning that my little cherub has ascribed to the word "bubble." At that point, the uninitiated will usually glare at me accusingly, pat the little bubble boy on the head, and walk away.
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