Break like the Wind

One of the hardest things about being a parent is not laughing at behaviors that are undesirable. Like farting.

On the face of it, farting is NOT funny. But, honestly, sometimes, it so is. Just last night I was attempting to do a dramatic recitation of Dooce, and could not finish, due to hysterical laughter and tears running down my face. (In my opinion, no one, but no one, writes about personal humiliation like Heather Armstrong. But I digress...)

But you aren't supposed to laugh when your kid, say, sitting at the candlelit dinner table of friends on New Year's Eve, just as everyone joins hands to say grace, starts emitting an emphatic, rapid-fire fusillade of  toots from her tiny backside.

In the shocked silence that followed, every adult clamped their mouth shut, doing their darnedest to keep from bursting into uncontrolled laughter. I was beyond speech, but Miles, bless him, was able to hold it together and admonish the child.

"Aeron, my goodness! What a rude noise!  What do you say?!?"

"'Excuse me, " said the offender, smirkingly.

"That's not OK!" her father said, sternly.

 Sheepishly, this time. "Sorry, Daddy."