B.C. Dee has more than a little experience with hiccups, only a little experience with hippos, but did give a bath to an elephant once. Like in this book, the elephant sprayed water playfully--no one should go into an elephant's bath without expecting to get wet. A writer of children's stories since the age of five, B.C. Dee is now published around the world, bringing smiles and delight to readers of all ages. ______________________________________ Isn't it funny that when you have the hiccups, everyone turns into an instant hiccup expert. Strangers will try to scare the hiccups out of you, waitstaff will bring you a cup of water without you asking. In Thailand, I was given a hot pepper by a sympathetic street vendor. In Mexico someone brought cayenne pepper with salt out of a restaurant and into the town square where I was hiccupping. In Kazakhstan one helpful stranger did a good job scaring me, unfortunately the hiccups persisted. Someone else, unbidden, pounded me on the back as if I were choking. I suppose that hiccups are a universal experience that bridges ages and cultures. When my wife was pregnant with our daughter, I felt her belly bounce more often from hiccups than from kicks. Before she was born, Isabel hiccupped so much that we nicknamed her "pipoca," which is "popcorn" in Portuguese. That image didn't fit after she was born--the popcorn was out of the pan. So I started calling her hiccupopotamus. It turns out that there are two books that are called "hiccupotamus," but I can't get my tongue around the syllables in a way that makes me feel like I did something other than mispronounce "hippopotamus." I could either get "hiccup" or "hippopotamus," but not both. Hiccupoptamus conjured both images in my mind at once. Isabel is now three, and she still hiccups a lot, even though she knows at least ten ways to cure them.