Do It Again Mom!Oh the joys of raising boys.
There are ladies I go to church with that would pass out and need their smelling salts (no pun intended) after reading this because of the four letter word I'm about to use. I can't help it, it's simply part of the story. And please think no less of me for what I'm about to describe, I can't help it either, it's too funny not to share.
F A R T
There, I said it (or typed it, which ever)! I love my boys but the one thing that I truly had to get over as a lady was this four letter word. So, judging by the title, I bet you can only imagine where this is leading but I promise it isn't THAT bad. I'm not THAT gross you know.
There are moments in my day when I've enjoyed something so much that I text it to my e-mail where it stays in my e-mail box until I decide if it was worth sharing or remembering. In some odd ball way, I felt like this needed to be shared and remembered. Probably because I know I'm not alone but need to be reassured. So, if you are reading this and want to reassure me, please scroll down and leave a comment, PLEASE!
My boys are ages 32, 8, 4 and 2. I have discovered that at any age, this is hilarious. Yes I'm including my husband on this one. Every now and then just get my boys to smile, I'll cock my mouth a little sideways and making a noise from my mouth that sounds like someone is ripping a new one. Nice right?
My boys go berserk, it's especially funny in the car when I do it and they aren't sure who did it or if it were real. My 4 year old will then cry out, "Mom you fawted!" No, I didn't spell it wrong, that's how he says it. My 2 year old will laugh and cover his mouth and say "Mom" very softly and then bust out in hysterics. My 8 year old yells, "Do it again MOM! That was AWESOME!" And so the game ensues. Driving down the road, mom makes "fawting" noises at different pitch levels and varying tones and they laugh and yell "Do it again MOM!" over and over and over... Don't ask me why it's so entertaining, why it's so funny or why they eventually grow into teenage boys who aspire for the ultimate "fawt". Don't ask me why my husband will eventually tell them about the time in high school that he set one on fire and singed his Umbros. Don't ask me why the kid in line to get his pictures made in his nice clean baseball uniform is standing and waiting for his turn in line with his hand down the neck of his shirt shoved under his arm and playing a tune.
I don't understand boys sometimes. I'm a girl, I'm not supposed to be able to unravel the mystery and I certainly am proud that I am not one. It can be such a lonely state to be the only female in this house full of testosterone. It's only going to get worse.