Yes, I’m writing about farts today

When we were expecting Miss D., Country-Fried Daddy and I spent a lot of time researching cribs, strollers, car seats, and other “gear” to get ready for the baby that was about to rock our world.  We also lurked around the children’s section of the bookstore, dreaming about how our child would, of course, love to read.

On one of those trips, CFD picked up a book entitled, “Walter the Farting Dog.”  Being male, he of course found this hilarious, and the book made its way into our baby’s library.

Fast forward almost three years, and we have a little girl who loves that book, and loves to talk about her farts.  During the many months in which I deluded myself that I could potty train this child, I would hear one rip and start towards her, propelled by fears of poo-poo on the floor.

“Don’t worry, Mommy,” Miss D. would say.  “It’s just farts.”

Belly is getting in on this action now, too.  She can’t “toot her own horn” about her toots, but she is tooting away nonetheless.

Belly has started doing push-ups, flexing her arm muscles and making me worry that she will be crawling earlier than her sister did.  The exertion of pushing her body up makes her fart for some reason, and she always looks disturbed when this happens.  She furrows her brow and looks around as if to say, “Who did THAT?”

Driving around town with these two is like hanging out with a bunch of fourth-grade boys at recess.  Miss D. farts.  She laughs.  Belly laughs because Miss D. is laughing.  Miss D. laughs in the crazed, “I-just-escaped-from-the-loony-bin” way she uses to make Belly laugh.  It works.  Belly laughs until she’s hiccuping.  And farting.

Laugh, hiccup, fart.  “Who did THAT?”

As it turns out, Walter the Farting Dog has a series of adventures.  In one, he valiantly propels a drifting cruise ship into port using the power of his intestinal distress.  A parrot on board squawks his assessment of Walter’s efforts with a line I often think of when the girls are doing their gassy routine.

“It’s not wind power,” says the parrot.  “It’s fart power!”  Indeed.