We have a little secret in our family…we think farts are funny.
It’s a generational thing on my side; I grew up in a family where gopher guts, knock knock, bad puns, and fart jokes were considered high humor. “Pull my finger” was fodder for a family laugh attack or groan as we matured. My husband, M, decidedly did not have the same experience. In fact, when the subject comes up (hee hee) at my in-laws house, my proper mother in law is known to protest that “she didn’t raise her boys that way; it must have been college…”
I can attest that it was not, in fact, college that accounts for M’s more relaxed treatment of the farting issue. I had just started “hanging out” with my now husband M when we had a luncheon conversation with several friends re: farting. Not sure why the topic arose (ha!) but the question at hand was whether anyone believed that M farted. My husband makes an initial impression as a serious, reserved sort of bloke. After a round of “nos” by everyone else at the table, I scrutinized him for a second and said, “Yep, he certainly does.” 13 years later, I won’t confirm or deny the truth of the matter on this post, but I will say, we’ve shared many laughs together on many subjects…
This leads us to a recent bedtime conversation with our two year old daughter, V. I was very proud of V the other day when she excused herself after burping at the lunch table. “What good manners!,” I thought to myself with a mental high-five for teaching her well. However, bedtime tonight was another experience. We were snuggling in her bed as I was putting her to sleep when I hear a little toot then a giggle. “My butt!” V exclaimed. “V fart!”
“Yes, I know sweetie.”
My husband M, was resting alongside her bed after telling her our nightly bedtime story. “Dad?,” V piped up.
“Fart from my butt!”
“Congratulations,” he panned.
I can’t help giggling. M good naturedly swatted at my arm, to remind me that my giggles will encourage future fart talk in our house. I try to stifle it, but I know V can feel me shaking as I laugh.
Oh well, as I’ve told her before, “It’s ok. In our house, farts are funny…”
(Editorial note: after writing this post, I mentioned the topic to my in-laws and might have uncovered the root of my husband’s more relaxed position on farting. At a recent family event, his uncle entertained the family with a fart machine device. The device sounds like a whoopie cushion and is triggered by the press of a button. Apparently, he’s been testing this out on the neighbors; faking out some poor joggers on his street. So Mom L, nope, I don’t think it was college that corrupted your son, but it might just be your little brother…thanks for the laughs, as always, Uncle B! Maybe it’s in the genes, after all!)