This morning started like any other. I toasted a bagel and poured my milk and began to prepare myself for a day in front of the computer doing the “taxes.” The husband, after spending a little extra time on the couch early this morning was in the shower and the boys were playing happily (translate quietly) up in their room.
“Phlbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbt,” ripped through the silence followed closely by two wild outbursts of boy giggles. “Dad!” they giggled, barely able to contain themselves long enough to form syllables.
I smiled. You see, my oldest, with his own allowance and completely unprompted, has purchased a Whoopie Cushion.
I even think it may have been a premeditated purchase. Last night, my oldest had asked me if we could go to WalMart following our meal. “If you behave,” was my standard answer to this request.
He was a gem. Through the entire meal.
When we got to WalMart he went straight to the back of the store – the pencil aisle didn’t even distract him. He cruised down the toy aisles until he zeroed in on the one containing the $1 and under toys. He went straight to the section, gazed at it for about 30 seconds, reached in and pulled out the Whoopie Cushion. And then, he was ready to go.
“You don’t want to go look to see if there are any new Wii games?” I said, incredulously.
“No. Let’s just go home.”
Now. Normally, I am not a fan of the $1 and under aisle. I try to do my part to keep the land fills free and clear of stupid, toy trash. But I will make an exception in this case.
This morning’s laughter instantly brought to mind a particular Saturday of my childhood, playing with my own brother – a champion of flatulent humor. We didn’t have something so fancy as a Whoopie Cushion, but we did have a tape recorder.
My brother would sit on the tape recorder and fart. And then we would spend hours playing back the tape, laughing until our sides hurt and our faces were wet with tears.
It’s going to be a good day.
