The Mama went on a business trip, The Kidling went on vacation, and The Dada had Our House to himself.
Not a bad deal, really.
Upon The Family’s reunion, I asked The Dada how he enjoyed his time alone:
The Mama: (to The Dada) Did you like having a nice, quiet house?
The Dada: (nods)
Alice: Now there’s lot’s of chit-chat and stinky smells. (to The Mama) Toot in your own room!
Heh heh. Why, um… Kids say the darndest things…
This past weekend, The Family was driving through a nearby town known for being… fragrant… A town that frequently elicits such comments as, “What’s that sme– oh. We’re in Nearby Town.”
Well, on this fine winter’s day, Nearby Town was not at fault.
The Mama was.
I *ahem* passed gas (please pretend you don’t notice this is a theme. Please.). Being the terrific role model that I am, I said, “excuse me.” Mind you, I could have tried the aforementioned line. The one that blames the stink on Nearby Town. But I didn’t. Good mama.
Now, I expected a typical Alice response. Something along the lines of, “Ewww. I don’t even want to know about it!” Or a benign, “You’re excused. You were already excused.” But not this day. For whatever reason, Alice’s olfactory sense (or her optimism) tricked her. Instead, I heard:
“I smell something good. Like those crackers we eat. It smells good, like crackers. Not like exhaust.”
I think the next time someone asks for an interesting or little-known fact about The Mama, I shall tell them my gas smells like crackers. It can now be cited as fact.