Three Kings

~ Laura

Three years ago, when the technician ran the sonogram over my tummy slick with Vaseline, she announced with complete confidence “it’s a boy.” I took a little while to recover from that news because this one was my second and my last. I knew that I was facing a future without a daughter. Who would I bicker with in my older years? Would I miss the opportunity to buy dresses and hair doodads? Who would take care of me as I aged?

I got over it pretty quickly. The boys and I are a good fit. Our sitter at the time, Juana, wisely pointed out that in a house of three men, I would always be the princess. She didn’t warn me that living in a house of men would also involve ongoing discussions about farts.

On Sunday morning before church, Steve came back from the gym and announced that he really let one rip while doing squats. Moments later, Jonah wandered into the kitchen making an armpit fart. “Who stepped on the duck?” he asked to no one in particular and then laughed his head off.

Stepped on a duck? Steve explained that line was from an episode of Billy and Mandy, where an invisible duck followed Billy around making fart sounds and embarrassing him. The writers must have gotten this from a line in Caddyshack, Steve said, which just goes to show how excellent cartoons are today.

In the living room, Ian was watching the Boobahs. The Boobahs are chubbier and less talkative Teletubbies and do exercises while making a squishing sound. Ian thinks the squishing sound are farts. Ian turned to me and said with a huge smile, “Boobahs fart. I dance.” A celebration of flatulence.

Published by Laura

7 thoughts on “Three Kings”

  1. I see your three kings, and raise you five princesses. (Well, four at present; assuming all goes well, it’ll be five come late March.) Given that this is the end for Melissa and I, it appears that I am going to be the only male around here. There’s not much discussion of farts around our home, admittedly, but on the other hand I think we might end up mortgaging our home to American Girl Dolls before they’re all grown, if our recent trip to that store in Chicago is any indication. I barely got out of there alive, I tell you.

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  2. My 5 year old daughter loves to laugh about the “farting” sound the ketchup makes when it’s almost empty…
    and she loves to talk about her “booty” and show it off when she’s getting ready to get into the bathtub. Oh, vey!
    Now her younger brother has picked up on the fun and “fake” farts and burps are a regular part of our dinner….oh, the joy…

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  4. My six-year-old’s favorite stocking stuffer this year was a whoopie cushion. I’m not too big on the fart jokes, but watching his pure delight with that whoopie cushion has been a joyful thing.

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  6. Well, you know, you coulda gone for 3. That’s how we got our little red-headed girl. Just sayin’…
    On the other hand, in my wife’s family, it is the one boy who is the major prop to her parents’ old age. So you’re not necessarily facing a future on the streets of Santa Monica, gumming your food and staring vacantly.

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