Ours is not a marriage that declares war via flatulence. Thank God my husband is not a man who wouldn palm bomb me and I believe he can foresee the violent reaction that would result from a bedroom Dutch Oven situation.
Aidan and Asher, on the other hand... They are of the 'louder the better' school of thought and if one can manage to be sitting on the other when the urge hits, well, that's like being King for a day.
So the other day Asher and I are on the couch when a sound not unlike a duck squawking came from under me. Asher slowly turns to look at me and with a tone of utter disbelief asks me Mama... did you... fart? I snickered and owned up. A sly smile curled up on his lips and he gave me a slow nod that conveyed approval and more than a little pride. I may not have a pen!s but I fart so I'm worthy again.
