Wendy's six year old, like all other boys, think farts are the funniest thing. Jordan loves Pull My Finger. Hell, I love Pull My Finger.
OK, so boys are not the only ones who like farts. Big boys do too. But not all fart humor is created equal. A couple of weekends ago, Jordan learned about the Dutch Oven.
He left the covers and crawled over to his mother eyes watering and crossed. Coughing and retching. "Mommy, I didn't like that."
I was laughing so hard until I got a whiff from what came out of the blanket. I started to cough and retch. Wendy started to cough and retch. It was one of the most awful things to ever come out of my butt.
I felt the need to apologize to the boy. Not in the "gee I'm sorry that happened. I hope your mom doesn't poison my Mountain Dew." I really felt bad. Super bad. No kid should have dealt with that without provocation. That should have been saved for a time he deserved it.
Like when he tries to give a Dutch Oven to me.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
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