Children are both disgusting and awesome, and so are dads. When you mix dads and toddlers you increase the awesome as well as increasing the disgust. It is a potent and dangerous cocktail, and one that I am abusing to the max.
While A-Rex lies there constantly sharting, Feliciraptor is learning all the skills needed for a starring role in an Adam Sandler film. Much to the chagrin of Mommy-G and assorted relatives one of my daughter’s favourite phrases is now:
It’s just a fart.
The blame for this lies mostly at my door, as do most of her ‘bad’ habits, but the blame is not mine alone. While toilet training we were constantly on the look out for ‘solids’ so anytime we heard an expulsion of air we would be pulling the waistband of her knickers to look for evidence. There was nothing to be seen we would exclaim with the above refrain.
Now she has taken it as her own.
Yesterday morning she sat by Mrs V and let one rip on her leg (an act that would lead to immediate divorce if I did it).
She gave me a look of pride. While in the car to school she sat in the back singing about bodily functions with a ditty of her creation.
For poor Mrs G this is a terrible time, with three wind machines sat next to her, she can never be certain whom to blame. Smell is no indicator of guilt either. We, in her words, are as bad as each other.
Even A-Rex has a look of pride on his face whenever he expels, it is as though he is looking for respect from his family. Or he is thinking this is how you communicate.
Added to the range of noises from the Feliciraptor she does a mean burp, even if 90% of the time it is just her shouting “Urp” at you. She is currently at the opposite end of the “What would Audrey Hepburn do”spectrum.
There will be a point that she does this in public, and I expect it will be terribly embarrassing (especially if she does it while being looked after by others). But I won’t be embarrassed because I am a dad.
I’m disgusting, and I think it’s awesome.