K: Mama, didja know that sometimes when you fart, there’s also poop?
Me: Yes. I did. And sometimes….
K: Yeah, my belly feels better when I fart… and when I poop.
*Walks away before I can say anything else.
We do dinner with my parents every Thursday. This past week, we went to a place right near my work. We love this place and all the people who work there know us. K has been going through a phase where he announces his farts. I have been trying to discourage this behavior to no avail. I was sitting on the side of the table across from him.
Me: *Smelling something close to rotten eggs. (Whispering) Baby, did you fart?
K: (Looking up from the iPad with headphones on) What Mama? Did you say good job?
Me: (Motioning him to take off the headphones) No Love. I didn’t say good job. I asked you if you farted. Did you?
K: (putting the headphones back on and loudly announcing). Oh yes I did. EXCUSE ME I FARTED!!!! OH! THERE I DID IT AGAIN!!! WHEEEEEEEEEW WEEEEEEE! (*waiving his hand in front of his face) THAT IS DISSSSSS-GUSTING!!!
*Thanks son for letting everyone at the restaurant know that you have gas since you can’t hear how loud your voice is because you have the headphone on!!! Thanks a lot!
*Scenario—in the car on the way home from school.
K: Mommy, can you please turn up the radio?
Me: Thank you for using your manners (as I start to turn up the music)
K: OH! MY! GOODNESS!!!
Me: (Startled) WHAT? What’s wrong?
K: I just farted a little and that junk was DIS-GUS-TING! Whew, what the heck was that all about?
Me: *uncontrollably laughing!!!
*I will use each Tuesday to rat myself out about something! It’s all in good fun and I am sure that these “truth-day” revelations won’t be things people don’t already know about me!
Farting. We all do it. Right? According to Dr. Oz, we pass gas at least 12 times a day. Sadly, gas comes at the worst times. You know, if you are in a meeting with your boss—it’s not like you can just play it off like it’s someone else. On an airplane, it’s a tough gig being trapped in a tin can with some serious gas.
Since I am a mom of a toddler (who initially didn’t speak any English), I have, at times, blamed him for my own farting. Is this nice? No. Is it fair? No (and life isn’t fair). Am I a mean mommy? Probably. But dang, no one says anything to a kid who has gas, but if I have to fart—I only got a 3-4 year shelf life to blame him, so I gotta tap that! Just sayin’!