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…

on flatulence and optimism

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.