That Alice. She’s deep. It recently became clear to The Mama and The Dada that our precocious child has been asking some thought-provoking questions as of late. Her most recent foray has been to consider what, exactly, is flatulence?
It has many and varied names:
- boom (courtesy of the family Mama³)
- turbo boost…
(please feel free to add to this disgusting list, dear readers. Urban Dictionary wasn’t particularly helpful this go-round).
And people say odd things when it is passed:
Who cut the cheese?
You ripped one!
Who broke wind?
Mom, did you fart?
Excuse me, I gassed (that one is courtesy of The Kidling).
Perhaps most important, it is a by-product of a healthy diet, yet viewed as positively repulsive. Because it is, but whatever. That’s not the point.
Okay, let’s get back to it. Jacques Derrida. Deconstructionism.* What, exactly, is a toot? Is it the entire episode of gas passing? Or is it each microscopic breaking of wind? The motivation behind this essential question lies in this dinner time episode:
Alice Munchkin Kidling passed gas. Big time. It was one of those very long toots that is well-articulated. Not a long “swoosh,” but rather a “bu-bu-bu-bu-bu-bu-bu-bu” type toot. You know the type. It went on and on and on (and on).
Finally, it stopped.
“Excuse me,” Alice declared. “I waited until I was finished with all of them so I didn’t have to say, ‘excuse me excuse me excuse me excuse me excuse me excuse me excuse me excuse me excuse me excuse me excuse me.’ “
* The Mama is no philosopher. If this is more Hegelian, then shoot me. I just thought it was funny.