Farts are always….Musical?

So there we are sitting down at dinner, and Oldest Child rips one. Makes the table shake – she makes a dad proud.
Psycho-Momia asks her if it was she that made that eye watering gas bubble. I forget OC’s response, but for some ungodly reason, my parental censor was off, and I responded with: “No, butt trumpet!”
A withering look from Psycho-Momia, “Are you sure that’s something you want her to learn?”

And then the real fun began.

OC comes back with “No, Dada, butt tuba!” I couldn’t help myself – I began sniggering. SHe continued on with a list of instruments for the whole family. She ended with “Mama – you have a xylophone up your butt!”

I left the room then, and melted into a puddle of mirth.

Oh, and that xylophone….
I didn’t put it there.

Notes on contacting me and privacy.

This is a blog. Blogs thrive on and exist by the grace of open commenting.
If you post a comment, it will go up. If there is privacy endangering info, I will edit it, but the post will still go up. The only posts I remove are spam posts.

If you need to contact me privately, there are prominent links above, and to the left. Use them, that’s why they are there.

I am still working out the exact wording of the Tattooed Dad privacy policy. I can however sum it up in plain english: Your information will never be shared, used or abused. Not sold, not bought, not masturbated over.

I loathe IOPs and will not allow it here.

Mikeal (AKA Tattooed Dad)