Friday, April 06, 2007

At Home With The Family Of Morons

We didn't have school today. Which meant my boys honored their unspoken pact to drive me crazy. It started with a sound. A sound much like I heard last week, when I thought #1 son was launching a rocket in the front yard, but it turned out that he was sitting on the toilet. Ahem. That kind of sound.

It was so reminiscent of last week's gas-passing that my #2 son, safely ensconced at his computer playing Civilization 3, just an arm's lenth away from me, said matter-of-factly, "#1 has launched another rocket." Which has become our little euphemism for a fart. A loud, long, echoing fart.

This was the pick of the litter as farts go. I was sure the boy was flying around the room like a rapidly-deflating balloon. I hollered from my office, "What are you DOING?" He laughed an evil laugh. The next thing I knew, he was standing right behind me. And I heard it again. The rocketish rumble, and the evil laugh. I told him he was nasty, and to get away from me and stop it NOW, right now, this instant, or I was taking away his Lappy for the rest of the day. He continued to laugh. I get sooo much respect from my young 'uns.

Then the boy spilt his little secret. "Mom. I was not really farting. Look. I have this straw down my sleeve, and I blow in it, and it makes my armpit sound like a fart. Listen. BRAAAAPPPPP! See? And it's not really a fart, just air in my armpit. Then you lean down like you're tying your shoe, and you hide the straw like this. I learned that at school yesterday when The Boy Who Was Born In A Truck did it with a piece of inkpen to Ms Homeroom Teacher. We all thought it was a fart. The kids laughed, and she told him to STOP IT. Then he showed us how to do it. Isn't it cool?" He grinned, like a kid who had just invented a robot capable of completing 6th grade homework.

He practiced his newly-acquired skill for the rest of the morning. I mean from 10:30 until 12:30. I called both boys up to the kitchen for lunch. As I put the finishing touches on #1's sandwich, #2 finished his Circus Os and milk (the Save-A-Lot version of Froot Loops), and began to taunt #1 and his fart straw. "Moooo oooom! #2 won't let go of the end of my fart straw! It's plugged up! I can't fart! Make him stop it. NOW!" #2 giggled his fiendish giggle, fueled by the sugary Circus Os. I had had enough. "STOP PLUGGING YOUR BROTHER'S FART HOLE!"

Both boys stopped their scuffling and looked at me. #1 said, "I bet that's something you never thought you'd be saying to your kids, huh, Mom?" I agreed. "And I never thought that one of my kids would be telling me that the other kid "...has a butt hole", either," I told them. #2 remembered his little butt hole faux pas from December. "What I meant was...he had a butt hole, in his pants!" Yeah. Like that makes it better.

I suppose you mothers of daughters are putting the finishing touches on the Easter bonnets right about now. Perhaps sitting down to a tea party, or playing My Little Pony, or having a Barbie furniture and clothing auction like my sister-the-mayor's-wife used to do with her girl young 'un. Shed a little tear for us mothers of boys. One single tear will do. A tear that runs down one cheek, and then your little princess pats you on the shoulder and wipes it away with a Kleenex and compassion.

Please. A single tear.

And while I'm making demands, go to writeinthethickofit.blogspot.com and read some stories. Place a vote. Because I said so. Don't make me plug your fart hole!

9 comments:

DeadpanAnn said...

I hope I don't have a girl.

Chickadee said...

LMAO!!!! My sister and I used to have belching contests..we were oh-so-lady-like.

I love fart humor, but then again, I don't have boys. Otherwise I might feel differently.

I've been around...just been busy. Need to get back to blog writing.

Have a happy Easter!

LanternLight said...

I hear that teenage girls are a whole lot of fun to manage as well.

oliveoyl64 said...

I love your stories, cuz I have a BOY and I wouldn't trade all the testosterone for anything. We are going to try the fart straw. That will give us something for cheap entertainment. Beats the heck out of the fart machine that eats batteries. He loves this thing b/c it comes with a useful remote. Oh, the many nights I lay down in bed with a fart machine hidden within.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Miss Ann,
Actually, I was the same way. I never for one instant thought I was having a girl. Even though they could not see what #1 son was, because in utero he kept his feet wrapped around the jewels, I always believed he was a boy. I did not even consider a girl's name.

Chick,
No, you would probably enjoy the farts just as much if you had boys. Once you like the farts, you'll always like the farts. And the burps. When I burp, the little one says, "Wow! That was a good one, Mom!"

Lantern,
Well, I forgot that they grow into teenage, non-tea-party-throwing, grudge-holding girls. Duh! I work with them every day. I guess I blocked it out.

Olive,
I'm so glad I gave you fake fart tips. Now...off to market the Fart Straw to the adolescent boys. I shall become a millionaire!

At least you know where your boy is. Not out running the streets, but safe at home at the other end of the fart machine.

Redneck. Diva. said...

My eldest daughter is the one that introduced the fart straw to our family. She learned it at a slumber party attended by hoardes of screaming, squealing little girls.

Around here, the Little Ponies are in cahoots with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and go on crime-fighting sprees against those dastardly My Scene Barbies and their sidekicks, The Littlest Pet Shop Gang.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Diva,
Not much for the young 'uns to do out there on the prairie, eh?

Redneck. Diva. said...

Young'uns? That's just what I play with!

Hillbilly Mom said...

Diva,
Umm...that's not really something to be proud of.