So this weekend, we're riding around in the car, and my daughter is sitting in her car seat, red-faced, grunting, and straining:
TACO: You okay over there?
DAUGHTER: Nnnnngyeah.
TACO: Do you need to be changed?
DAUGHTER: Nnnnnnng...no.
TACO: You didn't poop your pants?
DAUGHTER: Nnnnnnng...no.
TACO: What are you doing over there?
DAUGHTER: Nnnnng... I'm trying to fart.
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5 comments:
Did you not teach her the golden rule of flatus: "Force not, lest ye shit thy britches"?
Givertome. Give her to me. Give her here. Give. Her. Here!
Do not let this one near your kids. She's a squeezer. Not in the awww kind of way but in the LENNY LET HER GO kind of way.
A child squeezer? There is such a thing? What do you do, check if they are fresh?
Sigh. With HUMAN babies I'm gentler. Although if they're older and more sturdy I will playfully smush them but not for more than a second.
I get it from my father. It's a condition where any amount of elastic springiness in the form of pinchable body mass drives me to the point of madness until I get to squeeze it.
I also have the piggy-backed slapping gene, also passed down through the paternal line, where I compulsively slap things just for the cool skin-slappy feeling (in appropriate gentleness for their age). My current boy-toy doesn't like this, unless it's on his ass, in which case it's okay. But I habitually slap cheeks so I always have to stop myself. But his dog lets me slap his cheeks, so we are also currently dating.
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