Enterpreting the phrase "The Whole Thing"

Yesterday, Sassy noted my literal interpretation of the word "dirty." Of course, I know the word can be used to mean different things--different kinds of dirty or unsavory or socially frowned upon activities. I opted for the bacteria-infested form of "dirty."

Sometimes I enjoy being Amelia Bedilia. Amelia Bedilia is the main character in a whimsical series of children's books about a housekeeper who interprets everything literally. For example, when asked to draw the curtains, she sketches them out with pencil and paper, and when asked to heat a can of soup, she places an unopened can of soup in a pot of boiling water. I have a niece who has made the same confusing mistakes.

During the summer before her senior year in high school, Niece lived with us and worked as our nanny. My daughters were too young to be left home alone during the day while I went to work, and they hated the day-camp at the Y. Niece took them to the town pool, fed them their lunch, amused them in the back yard, made puppets out of sandwich bags, and helped them with other things kids like to do. Sometimes, if she was interested in the menu, she would help me make dinner as well.

On a day when I had planned to make chicken pot pie for dinner, I asked Niece to boil the package of chicken breasts that were thawing in the refrigerator so they would be ready to put into the pie when I got home in the afternoon. Niece asked, "Should I boil the whole thing?" "Yes, please boil the whole thing."

I meant that each piece of chicken should be cooked. Niece thought I meant to put the entire package of Styrofoam and plastic wrap and the icky diaper thing the chicken rests on into the big pot of boiling water. When I got home after work, there was a shriveled up piece of something very ugly in the pot--a mixture of fowl, foam, and plastic--melded together like a shrunken head. The whole thing.

I don't have scientific evidence, but I assume the chemicals used in making the plastic and the foam, when heated, could easily permeate the chicken, so I tossed it all in the trash. The whole thing. The whole nasty mess of wasted food. And we had dinner out.

So, when giving instructions to a literal thinker, it's important to be very specific and to make sure you are fully understood. Otherwise, you might end up with an exploding can of soup, or light bulbs strung out on the clothes line, or a heap of chicken cooked in Styrofoam.