Yes, I was right, a post presented itself to me and I could not resist.
Something happened yesterday that if my husband ever had any doubts about Gigi's paternity, all fears would be erased following this incident. BTW if my husband had any doubts about Gigi's paternity, it would be news to me. I'm too lazy to cheat.
Most days I think she's a female version of that guy. [Which of course, adds motherbumper in cya mode, is a wonderful thing.]
Yesterday afternoon Gigi and I were relaxing on the couch. Correction, I was kicking back and she was doing stage dives from the chair behind the couch, over the back, and belly flopping onto a turned over cushion next to me. She will be a pro crowd surfer folks, a pro.
Anyhow, after about a dozen flops she landed next to me, lay still and cut a really loud fart. Then she proceeded to laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world - because it is.
No it really it is, just ask anyone in the under 10 crowd or male and they will confirm this fact.
After laughing for another minute, she rolled over and said "now your turn mommy".
"To do what," I asked "dive over the couch? I can't do that, mommy would get hurt". (Mostly ego-injury related, but that is a detail the child didn't need to know.)
"No," she said laughing "fart".
I laughed and told her that I could not fart on command - only her dad can do that I added in jest.
Then she sat down and farted again with a real sly look on her face.
"Can you fart on command?" I asked, not knowing if she knew what command meant - even though she certainly knew how to do it - so I followed with "Can you make yourself fart?"
She farted again and laughed like a hyena. Then again.
So I called SB at work to tell him about her new super power. Then I blogged about it. Because you see, if I was a bad partner, I would have blogged about it then called my husband. But I'm not. So there.