Tonight’s happy story is a bit of a homage to Bill In Portland Maine’s Cheers & Jeers. And my daughters. Also flatulence.
If you’ve ever read Cheers & Jeers you probably already love …
Bill In Portland Maine and his occasional fart joke. Now Bill for all I know might be all about monocle-wearing high society, but he tells mean fart jokes.
Last year (or was it two years ago, they grow up too fast) I was reading to my oldest in bed when she passed a loud one. She blushed bright red. So I told her she had nothing to be embarrassed about, that everyone passed gas. She still looked embarrassed so I told her a story Bill had related in Cheers & Jeers.
He was at a museum in the back of the crowd (Bill told the story much better and I’m just going from my memory) in an art museum. During a pause in the guide’s lecture, Bill let out a loud one. Everyone turned so Bill did the only thing a young boy could do. He turned to look at the man next to him. So the other people did too and everyone thought that man had did it.
She felt better after that.
Now contrast her embarrassment to my just turned two-year old’s.
The other night I’m in bed with her reading Goodnight Gorilla, which is probably my favorite book.
She’s all cuddly next to me with her 5 year old sister on the other side. And she let one go.
We turned to look at her and she pointed with her index finger at her buttocks and said proudly, “Me! Me!” and began laughing.
So we all got a bad case of the giggles and Ms. Carnacki yelled in I was supposed to be getting them to settle down and to sleep so I told her what happened and she rolled her eyes and that made the three of us get the giggles again.
Now when my 2 year old passes gas she juts her little backside out and points with both index fingers at it. “Me! Me!”
I just might have a miniature Bill In Portland Maine on my hands.
That’s my happy story for tonight. The white trash poet has agreed to take over doing them every other week because I’m running low on happy stories. Plus he tells some wonderful stories of his own. If anyone wants to be a regular substitute for either of us shoot me an email.
In further homage to Bill:
Days `til Spring: 31.
Minutes ’til Ms. Carnacki and I go out on a date without the kids: 25.
Number of cats in my house: 1.
Number of children in my house: 3.
Number of times they’ve said it was the cat that passed gas and not them: 11.
Number of times the cat blamed them: 0.
Your bat picture of the day (what did you think I’d post a cute puppy?).
