I just read a dear friend's blog post about about how he still laughs when someone farts, and I shared in the glee that I'm in that mode of immaturity too. All the time.
In fact, just a couple weeks ago the kids and I were seated in a small congregation of young scouts and their families, watching proudly as scouts received recognition for their accomplishments. Proud moments to be had by all.
Until a kid in front of us farted. It just squeezed itself right out - he didn't even FLINCH.
Of course it happened on a hard chair, the sound loud enough to resonate through the church gymnasium. The kids and I immediately burst into the kind of laughter that so badly needs to explode from your gut, yet so badly needs to be hushed.
In those moments, it seems all you can do is cry.
Amanda may as well have gone up to the front, grabbed a microphone, and announced to each and every individual in the room that her mom had farted.
Through the tears of stifled giggles, the mortification of assumed guilt, and the pure joy of laughing at someone's fart, I pointed to the offending farter. And may or may not have smacked her back. Brandon, on the other hand, pinned it on the wrong kid entirely, which meant I had no one to back up my claim of innocence.
Oh well. I've realized that I'm so immature sometimes, that even if the world did think I was the one who floated the stinky, it was well worth the laugh it gave me and the kids.
So let this serve as a warning - if you fart my children and I will giggle incessantly. Lucky for you, I'll take the blame, for which I won't give a rip.