Farting Like A Big Boy

Wow. I never knew that such a small baby could produce such big… errrr… smells. I thought the Jets of Poo were bad, but that was *nothing* compared to this.

I mean really. The kid is the size of a monster loaf of garlic bread (with the wrapper), which is hardly big in terms of humans. Yet the little baby rips off these great farts that wilt the houseplants and strip the ozone layer from the earth. Strong enough to shame any teenage boy and odiferous enough to send creatures of all sizes fleeing in terror.

Twice in the past two days my little precious Juliette has casually lifted her butt as I’m changing her diaper and fired the cannon. Seconds later I’m stumbling about gasping and retching, trying to wipe the frost from my glasses while frantically gulping for fresh air. Small wisps of smoke rise from nearby furniture and towels. Pictures hang askew. And the little darling lies there smiling nonchalantly as if nothing has happened. “What? Me?” Smile.

I don’t get it. How can a little baby – eating nothing but wholesome mother’s milk – convert that seemingly harmless substance into a lethal chemical bomb? Becoming-A-Mom isn’t eating anything extraordinary that should be converting to nerve gas, so how the hell is my Juliette generating an internationally-banned substance? I note that Becoming-A-Mom is not popping off any planet-melting fireballs, nor is Becoming-A-Dad (I should point out that Becoming-A-Mom has not in past and never will in future ever pass gas).

Anyhow this will all be recorded and filed for future reference. Once she’s old enough to date, I am going to warn all potential suitors.