Monday, 23 January 2012

The F (And The P And The B) Word

FARTS and POO and BOTTOMS..... Clearly the three most hilarious things in the WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD ......... At least for The Small Boy.

Over recent weeks he has slowly, inexorably turned into a mini Bernard Manning with a fully-fledged repertoire of toilet-based humour that reduces him to paroxysms of gurgling delight while the rest of the family stand by bewildered and, let's be honest, slightly worried.

This sudden fascination with his and other's (everybody's *sigh*) bodily functions I am TOTALLY blaming on the influence on his school friends OBVIOUSLY. Not least because he uses the word "fart" (a lot) when, in this house, IF we discuss the act of breaking wind at all we call it a "trump" thank you very much.


Not that it/ they are discussed often because this house is mostly made up of girls none of whom would admit to breaking wind, trumping or farting EVER.

The Small Boy, with an unerring Small Boy's instinct for a weak spot, has noticed the girls' disinterest in all things farty and, on a regular basis can be found squirming about on his sisters' beds offering to fart on them for their olfactory delight. This does not entirely make them happy, the subsequent flapping and squawking would out do a whole coop of chickens when the fox comes to tea.

If anybody and I do mean anybody - family members (not that they do obvs), TV characters, strangers in the street, the man at the supermarket checkout (to whom I am still apologising) - should make the gaff of guffing whilst The Small Boy is in the vicinity, they will suddenly find themselves the central character in the living art work entitled "Object of A Small Boy's Hilarity."
I am assured after the first five minutes, the finger pointing and shrieking laughter is oddly comforting - they were probably lying though.

Yesterday, The Small Boy, wrote his first song. I shared this information with The Man who is a musician and, just for a brief moment he might have swelled with pride about the "chip off the old block" ... Might have, until I repeated The Small Boy's song... 

See my poo,
See my poo,
See my poo.

See my poo,
See my poo,
See my poo. 

(Repeat ... ad nauseam).

So proud (Not).
*sighs .... a lot*

*crosses fingers*
*waits patiently for phase to pass*

3 comments :

  1. Haha that is hilarious! I love his song! We're potty training at the moment, so life seems to be entirely centred on bodily functions...

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  2. I only have girls and as you say they don't have quite such an obsession with all toilet-related issues! They do, however, frequently refer to their father as a 'poo poo head!' - an odd term of affection for sure. Helen

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  3. Ha ha ha, this is my boy down to a tee! He loves nothing better than toilet humour but tbh, we're all a bit like that in our family....sorry! Thanks for linking up :)

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