Life with boys

Last night at the dinner table, in his highchair, Cary let out a long, sputtering fart.

It was so impressive, it stopped him from talking. (This is quite a feat.)

When it was finally over, he smiled and said, "A motorcyle! There's a motorcycle in my diaper!"

And then he and Dean both CRACKED up.

As a woman who is not a fan of flatulence, bodily fluids, blood, guts, gore or other grossness, I have to say I am not looking forward to the years and YEARS and YEARS I have left of this kind of thing.

(Even though I have to admit, I cracked up too! It really did sound like a motorcycle!)