Drew and I were headed to Hobby Lobby this evening to get stuff for his Pinewood Derby car. All of a sudden it wreaked of 9 year old gas!
Him: *sniff-sniff-sniff*, What’s that smell?
Me: *Chuckle, while rolling down the windows* You-woo farted. I’ll do what my dad used to do and we can play freeze out. Roll down on the windows when it’s freezing out. Gah! That stinks.
Him: *in a squatting position* I can’t help it. I got the farts.
Me: Squeeze your butt cheeks together when you fart. Helps it not smell so bad. That’s what I do.
Him: You fart?
Me: Oh, not anymore. Ever since I had you and Alex I don’t fart anymore. That’s why Moms don’t fart.
Him: Really?
Me: Really!
A few minutes later, we were listening to a CD and A Message in a Bottle came on.
Him: What’s this song say? Message in my Bottom? That’s doesn’t make any sense!
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