I love my boy. He’s handsome. He’s got a dapper smile. And I’m pretty sure he has a genius level intellect. No. I’m positive he is a genius…just like his sister…and me…and Frasier…okay, and Michelle too. Just look at him, lady killer just like his daddy.
However, there is one issue. The kid has more gas than BP. And it smells worse than a middle eastern restaurant.
Ava would give toots and we would all laugh and smile. They were cute. Didn’t smell. Didn’t linger. Just a little toot coming out to say “hello”. Ava’s toots still don’t smell, and she is two! Vinny on the other hand could knock out a horse.
Since he was born, his bum and its releases have been an issue. They smell so bad that you would bet your life that he has poo in his diaper, but no, just another rancid ripper. They linger too. Oh good lord how they linger. They are like a fat kid at the sundae bar. They just keep hanging around and won’t go away.
The dumb male in me, meaning the part of me that still makes plenty of use of the reptile brain, is somewhat proud. I know when he is in high school and if he is still able to peel the paint off the wall with one bum burp, he will have lots of laughs with his friends.
I also look forward to when people are holding him and they say, “Oh my, someone gave a little rumble.” I wait for the few moments after that for them to get smacked in the face by his mustard gas.
It’s so bad, even Frasier seems bothered by it. Though, as a typical guy, there is nothing quite like the look of relief/pride he sometimes gives after a real screamer comes out. That’s when I just look at him and give a little wink, and with no words being said, we connect as father and son on a level that him and Michelle never can. Two reptile brains understanding the joy and comfort of really letting one rip. And then basking in the smell of your own repulsiveness.
Vinny is well on his way to becoming a man, one toot at a time.
Let’s switch gears over to Ava and something that I am not so proud about. Last weekend we attended a great summer party thrown by Jim and Diane Duff. There was swimming and games for the kids. A nice fire at night. Lots of food and drink. Basically, a party we always look forward to.
As we are sitting around the patio table, eating, talking and enjoying the Jell-O shots that were graciously prepared by our hosts. Ava was trotting around the yard and deck, being a kid, enjoying herself. Ava then spotted one of her favorite food groups, gelatin desert. Everyone else was enjoying the colorful wigglers, so she decided she should too.
Michelle was busy with Vinny, and I was busy shoving food down my gullet, so we didn’t see Ava’s little paw reach up and grab a Jell-O shot. She grabbed an orange one…peach schnapps.
Then just as I was swallowing my third helping of buffalo chicken dip, I heard someone say, “Oh no, what does Ava have?”
Without looking I knew exactly what she had. It was the same thing I said to myself I should move away from the edge of the table so Ava doesn’t grab one. I didn’t do it though because just as that thought was going through my mind I spotted the buffalo chicken dip.
Luckily, she didn’t actually eat any of the Jell-O. Just a couple licks. I like to look at it as a blessing in disguise. Ava went to bed a lot easier that night.
Also, due to the buffalo chicken dip, Vinny and I had some father/son bonding that night by making the house a quarantined, bio-hazard area.