Games People Play

Sister #1, have a barf bag ready, because this will make you laugh. And I can’t believe I’m actually sharing this.

You would think that I would really know by now that children always engage in little games of “Monkey See, Monkey Do.” My little munchkin is no exception, but I have a story to share that should act as a warning to all of you…

It all started when the hubby and I were dating. I am married to a…ummm….shall we say…gassy man. That was pretty evident from day one. I’m not complaining. Everyone gets gas. It’s just that some people are gassier than others. I mean really, REALLY gassier than others. Anyway, there’s always been this running joke that if someone is gassy (in the basement, not the attic), there are certain levels of fake passing out. At level one, you simply slump over with your eyes closed, and the gassy offender must then say, “Oh no. My honey is knocked out from the stench of my stinky butt” and then give a kiss to revive the one who is knocked out. There are varying levels of being knocked out, and the appropriate quote must accompany it—level two is due to raunchy butt, level three is due to funky butt, level four is due to sewage butt. Once you hit sewage butt, the one who is knocked out may “play dead” and only come to life after a special offer has been made in addition to a kiss—something like a back rub or doing the dishes, etc. On very silly days, you may knock out from the stench of your own stinky butt, and the non-stinky person still has to revive you.

So where does my daughter fit into all of this? Rewind to last night. She was the gassy offender last night, and sometimes, having picked up on the fake-passing-out game, she will pretend to knock out and wait for a kiss and a hug. Well, while I was getting her dinner ready, she decided she wanted Cheerios. I told her no, I would have her food ready in a minute. A tantrum ensued (normal for an 18 month-old, right?) and I let her kick and scream for a little while. Then, she stood up, came over to me and totally let it rip. How does something that small produce that much gas? Anyway, she made sure the floor was clear, then flopped backward and puckered up, waiting for me to give her a kiss. So, I did the requisite, “Oh no. My sweetie is knocked out from the stench of her own stinky butt.” I gave her a big kiss, but you know what? She didn’t budge. She kept her mouth puckered up, so I kissed her again. Still nothing. Hmmmm.

Then, she opened her eyes, looked right at me and said. “Pee yew. Tiss [her version of ‘kiss’]” and closed her eyes again. So, I gave her yet another kiss, but she still wouldn’t get up. She opened her eyes again and said, “Mommy. Pee yew. Tiss. Teeweeos [her version of Cheerios].”

Holy buckets. She learned the fake-knocking-out game too well. The kiss wasn’t enough. She wanted those Cheerios.

I didn’t laugh (too hard). And I did give in. So, she had turkey, cauliflower…and Cheerios…for dinner last night.