Yummy!

Some prompts are sweeter than others and yummy is one of those expletives used in childlike manner to describe what is delicious and simultaneously makes us feel good. Some people seem to have this more than others, an attraction to being orgasmic towards cupcakes and such.

A word I rarely use, not because there’s anything wrong with it, but because I had a more proper mother who cautioned her children against using such words that opened us to plastic worlds of the fake-talk, too smiley elementary-school-teachers, short-skirted weather women on the evening news. The babyish coo’s and cuddling’s of her in-laws who hailed from the Seattle suburbs rather than the fielded white barn and farm house in the Lakes region of New Hampshire where a pot of woodstove baked beans was hearty and cakes made with real eggs substantial, not the marshmallow-fluff of Dad’s folks and their Duncan Hines, with its purpled, right-triangle on the box advertising how its choking, dry-air-contents were moist even if vacuum packed.

Broadcasts for yummy made us think as kids our Seattle grandparents must be rich with creamy Cadillac's, and cupboards full of boxed cereals and macaroni’s. Yummy rhymes with tummy and I’d heard my mother let my little brother know when he’d reported having a tummy ache after returning from grandma’s mid-century modern that we don’t say that word in this house, it’s called a stomach. You have a stomachache and so we learned our aversions.

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