No farts for the wicked
When the kids are jumping on their beds, pulling things out of drawers, chanting their little gleeful war chants, pretending to be cats and dragons, and telling us they need a third dinner, saying this is the only thing that works: “If you don’t get into your beds now, I won’t fart on you tonight.”
Yes, you read it right.
The latest fad in the three- to six-year-old demographic currently residing at our domicile is for Mommy, i.e., me, to make extremely loud extended raspberries on cheeks, foreheads and scalps. Then they are happy. And then they get into bed.
Why? I don’t know. (Personally, I have different tastes.) But if they like it and are willing to risk falling asleep for it, hell, I’ll do it until they go away to college.
The only danger is when I forget to do it. Two nights ago, I left rather abruptly so my husband could start reading to them, and The Younger was quietly weeping: “Mommy, you didn’t fart on me!”
So, I farted on him. And all was right with the world again.—Jillian O’Connor
This is great! I will have to call it farting now too. Oh the things we do for our kids. All morning long my oldest kept telling me he ‘Didn’t love me anymore’ (He didn’t want to wear a shirt to school, long story), and to which I replied ‘Thats okay, mommy loves you no matter what’. Tonight after pick up, every other sentence out of his mouth was ‘Mommy, I love you’. So yeah, he totally deserved farts in appreciation for his turn around.
So, did he wear the shirt to school?! Assuming that he was willing to wear pants, but you never know with boys. Thanks for the feedback. I hope you farted on him good.
This is hilarious! I’ve been known to “fart” on my kids from time to time, too.
Glad to hear I’m not alone. Welcome!