This post is not going to be a starry-eyed, gushingly detailed story of something acutely cute. This one is for the parents who have endured the jarring reality of raising children.
Henry ate something recently that definitely didn't agree with him. We will most likely never know for sure but it was memorable. As in creating smells that revolted me and I grew up on a farm. Henry thought it was awesome, like he had some magical power (to do what, clear a room?)
Parents will sympathize, I'm sure, with the challenges of teaching polite manners to a gassy preschooler. I'm hoping it gets better with age, but based on the behavior of my now-adult brothers, I doubt it.
When he was an infant, Mylicon was a good ol' standby for his baby bellyaches and I diligently avoided the caffeine, broccoli, etc that breastfeeding mother should. Now that he's older, of course we encourage him to try new foods with the occasional unpleasant results.
To his credit, Henry has taken his flatulence manners to hearts and thinks each expulsion needs to be accompanied by "Excuse me" which is adorable, at first. Then it's accompanied by giggling which often escalates into those wonderful child-belly laughs. I'm hoping he'll tell us if he has a tummy-ache but of course I cannot resist my Mama-impulse to hover & mother.
Mama: Henry, are you feeling all right?
Henry: MAMA! I'm NOT Henry! I'm a STINKBOMB!
Yes honey, you certainly were.
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