My mum hates the word ‘fart’. It’s crass, apparently. Sadly, her more refined use of the English language failed to stick with me. Being crass is A-OK with me. Swearing is my go to form of communication and the more inventive the swear the better.
So this story is no surprise really.
Earlier this week, with Boo dressed in a particularly pretty and girly outfit, we headed into town for a spot of shopping. I needed to pick up some more prenatal vitamins – I’m not pregnant, just going on doctor’s orders. They didn’t have the ones I wanted so we headed over to the pharmacy counter in Boots to see if they were there. My hands were full and Boo was clingy so I plopped her down on the counter.
Boo has a strong grasp of language so we have to be careful what we say around her now. Obviously we aren’t careful enough about the topics we cover. As the very formal, well-to-do pharmacist discussed what pills I need to take at my stage of pregnancy (again, not pregnant), Boo piped up “sex, Mummy!”
I blustered my way through explaining that she has obviously overheard some of those awful, sexless conversations where you have to schedule sex in order to procreate.
I could feel the beet red draining from my face as the embarrassment passed. Phew, got away with it.
The pharmacist bent down to write something down for me.
Boo leaned forward to give me a cuddle.
As the blast ripped through the air, I could practically see the perfectly quoiffeured, hair spray stiff hair of the pharmacist flatten under its force.
We locked eyes. Hers displayed the sternness that mine should but can’t ever seem to muster.
I did a fart Mummy! A stinky fart!
Yes you did, Boo. Yes, you did.
Mrs Pharmacist remained stern, Boo was cackling with laughter (yes, my gorgeous little girl laughs at farts and burps), and I was looking for the nearest exit.
Generate your button code