beau-ootiful soo-oop

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soupEvery meal Diane makes soup for me.  I could do it myself, I guess, but she has a special recipe that she won’t tell me.  I guess it’s because it contains a lot of super-fatty things (real cream, real butter) that she knows I wouldn’t put in the soup if I was cooking it myself.

I’m eating the soup alone.  It’s still difficult to get it all down and I get stressed out if people are looking at me eating; things don’t go down or end up in the wrong place.  (Some kids are like that too — they can’t stand people watching them when they eat).

Coming up to my room with the soup Diane has started singing a poem — “The Mock Turtles Song” — by Lewis Carroll (the mathematician-author of Alice in Wonderlandetc.)

Beautiful soup, so rich and green!
Waiting in a hot tureen!
Who for such dainties would not stoop?
Soup of the evening, beautiful soup!
Soup of the evening, beautiful soup!
Beau-ootiful Soo-oop!

Beau-ootiful Soo-oop!
Soo-oop of the e-e-evening,
Beautiful, beautiful Soup!

Beautiful soup! Who cares for fish,
Game, or any other dish?
Who would not give all else for two
Pennyworth only of beautiful soup?
Beau-ootiful Soo-oop!
Beau-ootiful Soo-oop!
Soo-oop of the e-e-evening,
Beautiful, beauti-FUL SOUP!”

Yeah, yeah, I think.  Just make fun of the poor patient!  But the soup is very good (and usually most of it actually goes down).

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