The Anatomy of a Fart, By Sam

This morning after reading another blog, I was inspired to write a semi-poetic post about how most of us hide our true selves from people so no one will realize how much internal muck we have gunking us up.  We let people see what we want them to see, we're very selective about what we share with whom, we fiercely guard our fears and failures...how many people do we truly allow to penetrate the protective shells we build around ourselves? 

But that idea was trumped by a stimulating conversation I had with Sam on the way to school about farts and other bodily functions.  It was a doozie.

This conversation started with Sam asking where I got my brown eyes and where he got his blue eyes.  When I explained that Daddy gave him his blue eyes, Sam said, "Yeah, but Daddy farts." 

"Well, yes, he does.  But that doesn't have anything to do with the color of his or your eyes."

"But Lena and I fart just a little.  You and Daddy fart a lot."

Laughing, I said, "Well, when you get older, some foods don't digest so easily and can make you fart more than normal."

"What kind of food?"

"Well, we eat a lot of good things at home like fruits and veggies and beans and, unfortunately, those can make you gassy."

"What's gassy mean?"

So I go into the whole digestion discussion, explaining how the body takes what it needs from the food you put into it and gets rid of what it doesn't need.  And sometimes that includes gas, which has to get out somehow.

"So, you see Sam, everyone farts.  It's just part of how our bodies work."

Sam absorbed this and then set out for me the varying levels of his farts and how, "when they get quiet and stinky, I know I have to go potty FAST!"

I laughed so hard during this conversation I nearly had to pull the car over.  I know it might be too much information for some, but come on.  That's funny!  It's just part of life as a mother of a funny 5-year old boy, I guess.  I love Sam's inquisitive mind, always wondering and curious and asking questions. 

Even if results in a 15 minute discussion about farts...

Sweet Little Lena Girl

We've been watching old home movies with the kids lately and have been shocked by how much our baby girl has changed in just a few short years. 

And perusing through my old blog posts is providing the same sense of astonishment at how quickly time is transforming my baby into a little girl.

She just seems so grown up now, at the ripe old age of three.  She getting taller and her cheeks are losing their baby fat, her hair is so long and golden and beautiful, she's becoming coy and flashing those beautiful baby blues at Rich and I when she wants something, batting her eyelashes and tilting her head just so...learning about those feminine wiles already.

She's completely potty trained now, even at night.  Thank God in heaven for that!  She's learning her alphabet and singing songs constantly and is adventurous and friendly.  She's independent and likes to pick out her own clothes, get herself dressed and requests specific hairstyles now.  She also prefers not to cuddle much anymore, which makes me sad sometimes, but is just another fact in the mounting pile of evidence that Lena is growing up.

One of the most special things I've noticed about my girl as she's growing and learning is her genuine love and affection for her brother.  They play rough and fight just like any siblings do.  But she adores that boy and is his constant companion.  Maybe it's a second child thing.  Maybe it's a little girl admiring her big brother thing.  Whatever the reason, it's there.  And it's undeniable.  I have photo documentation. 

She always has her hand on him...

even when she doesn't know we're watching. 

She looks at him admiringly...

and holds his hand...

or both.

"Nurturing" is what comes to mind when I look at these pictures.  My sweet, precious, brother-loving daughter is a natural nurturer...and I'm so proud of her for that!

Sammy - Part 2

Another Sam story that I have to share...

Sam finally had his 5-year check up yesterday, which went very well, I was told (Rich had the day off, so he was able to take him to the doctor).  Sam had to get three shots and was pretty scared.  Rich was spinning all sorts of tales trying to get Sam in touch with his bravery.  The one that seemed to do the trick was about superheros having to stay healthy and get shots, too. 

After the shots, which Sam didn't even cry for, Rich asked him for a high five for doing so well.  They did their old up high, on the side, down low, too slow game. 

But this time Sam wasn't too slow.  He slapped Rich's hand! 

Rich, feigning astonishment, told Sam that the shots must have made him super fast, like Flash.  So Sam went through the day thinking the shots made him into a superhero.

Then at bedtime he said to me, "Mommy?  What was in those shots they gave me, anyway?" 

He seemed a little upset that he'd been changed into Flash, his little lip trembling.  So I told him that Daddy was just joking around with him and that he wasn't really Flash.  That the shots just keep him healthy so he can grow up to be big and strong and smart, like lots of superheros.

"I know, Mom.  I need to be hit by lightening to be like Flash." 

"No, Sammy.  You don't want to be struck by lightening!  That would hurt bad, maybe even kill you.  You don't want to become a superhero that way.  Let's find another superhero you want to be like."

"Hmmm, what about Ironman?", he asked.

"Now that's a good one!  The super thing about him is that he's super smart.  And you know how you get super smart?  By paying attention in school, trying really hard, studying and listening to your teachers and to Mommy and Daddy." (Sam's been having trouble listening lately.)


"What about Captain America?", he asked.

"Another good one!  He's super brave and super good.  He's a soldier who makes good decisions, thinks of others before himself, and is very courageous.  You can be like him by listening to us and your teachers, trying hard at school, making good decisions, eating and drinking lots of good things, exercising and getting lots of sleep."


This conversation seemed to calm him down and, I'm hoping, sink into his little boy subconscious a bit. 

"What about Superman, Mom?", he asked.

"No, he's an alien.  A good guy, but an alien.  Let's stick with Ironman and Captain America."

"Good idea."

Then we sang our song and he fell fast asleep, surely dreaming of chasing bad guys and flying through the sky.