Do girls fart?

“Do girls fart?”  Whew.  Finally, a question from my 8-year-old that  I can answer without hesitation, without wringing my hands and stumbling over my words. A question with a one word answer that will not keep me up all night wondering if I answered it correctly, confidently and with a comforting tone of voice.  A question that cannot be answered in hundreds of different ways. A question that will not send me to the internet to read 565 different versions of what the the correct answer should be.  Like the questions he asked when he was 5.

As a 5-years-old, he wanted to know about God and death. He wanted to know if there were toys in heaven, and if he could bring his own toys to supplement the heavenly toy supply. He wanted an accurate description of the place, the housing situation and the local weather patterns. He wanted to know if it was on another planet and how he would get there, and if he had to hold my hand while we crossed heavenly streets. He wanted to know if our dog could go to heaven too, but first he wanted to make sure she would live to be one hundred, and if not, why not, and what will we do, and how will we go on?  

At 8, he wants to know about farts. Girl farts. He must have heard at least one girl fart in the past 8 years. It doesn’t seem that there is much in the way of modesty among kids his age yet, although I see it slowly coming on now. But truly, some girl must have farted in front of him. Damn, I must have farted in front of him at some point. Maybe I don’t qualify as a girl. Whatever. He wants to know if girls perform the same bodily functions as boys. 

“Of course,” I tell him. “Girls poop and pee and fart.” 

“Ewwww,” he says. Okay. Does this mean he is starting to see girls a little bit ‘differently’ than his male friends? I mean, why is it ewwwwwy that girls fart, but he and his friends can wreak havoc on any small space, kill small insects with their stink and even drive the dog out of the room all while falling apart with laughter at the sounds emanating from between their butt cheeks. 

“Well, what would you like girls to do with their gas?” I ask. “It’s a totally natural function.”  

“So why do you tell Dad he can’t just let them rip?” He wonders with a phrase that I know probably came from his dad.  

“It’s just not polite or even nice to do in certain situations.”  

“But it’s natural,” my son says with a whole lot of sarcasm. 

“Don’t be a stinker, I say.  “Get it!” He doesn’t laugh but rolls his eyes at me instead. “It is natural,” I say, “but it is also not very romantic or appealing to be sitting next to someone who is shooting off farts.” 

He laughs at that, in fact, he laughs a pretty hearty laugh at the idea of farts shooting out of someone’s butt, and he tells me that the next comic book he writes-he writes comic books with his own superheroes-will be a guy who shoots people with farts. Great. Those drawings will be really great ones for Grandma’s refrigerator. 

At least,  I answered his question honestly and with the same answer that he will get from anyone he asks. That was easy. What a relief. Now we can discuss all of Fartboy’s super powers, right? Question number two. It’s 7.15 a.m. Did I mention the time? And we are out the door on the way to school.   Question number two, “Mom, what’s puberty?” 

Trying out being nice?!

My sister and my nieces are here visiting, and my son is excited that they are here, but I think he is most excited that he gets to take a day off and go to Universal Studios instead of to school. He is also excited to get to prank them.  It’s true, all these girls have invaded his space and are sleeping in his bed and living in his room and leaving bras on his bedroom floor, something that thoroughly disgusts him. It’s not that he is usually mean to my nieces, he loves them, he enjoys spending time with them, but he also likes to tease them any way he can. He has already put his plastic bugs under all the pillows and tried to pour salt on their cereal. He has hidden their shoes and taken blackmail pictures of them sleeping. So, when he spends the morning asking my oldest niece about college and how she is doing and if she needs anything, she is justifiably suspicious. I hear her asking my son, “Why are you being so nice to me?” His reply, “I’m just trying it out.” She has a big laugh at that, so do I. But as the mother, I feel that however funny his comment is, I must follow up my laughter with a query as to why he needs to ‘try out being nice’.  His reply to that, “To see if I like it.”  “And?” I ask curiously.  “It’s okay,” he tells me.   Alright then, it’s okay to be nice, it feels okay. Should I be proud, confused, concerned or just indifferent? Should I let it go right here or turn this into a long discussion about behavior and morals and that fact that It matters. Shouldn’t everyone automatically feel great about being nice? Why does one need to try it on for size? I wonder if this is a kid thing? Do they all try being nice on for size before they commit? I have to let it go for now though, I realize, because we’ve got something to do today.  I tell him that we are taking him out for ice cream. He jumps up with a huge grin and punches the air with a loud whoop and a ‘yeah!’ Then, he calms down quickly and says, “Wait. Why?” “Why not?” I say. “Why are we going for ice cream? What’s the catch?” The catch is that we are also going shopping for a prom dress for my other niece. Ah ha. I’m caught.  I see the day before me suddenly, and I don’t see my son spending any more time on the trying out being nice thing, in fact,  I’ll be lucky to escape this day without a migraine. So much for being nice. I guess I need to up my bribes! 

Underpants, again!

“Do me a solid, Mom, smell my underpants.” Say what??! Can I laugh at that or would I be reinforcing inappropriate behavior? Or inappropriate language?  What do you do with that? Is it open for discussion? Should I ask why he wants me to smell his underpants? Does he really want me to smell his underpants?  Is there an issue with his underpants? Does he want to see if they are fresh enough to wear again tomorrow? Is he testing me to see what exactly I will do for him? Did he hear this said on television or on the playground? And since when does my son ask me to do him a ‘solid’? Or is that the least of my woes at this point? I did want to be mad because somehow it must be inappropriate, at least to say anyplace else on the planet besides in his own room to his own mother. Thank God that is where he chose to try this statement out. He did assure me that he had never and would never say that to anyone else, at which point I allowed myself to break down and laugh. I know, I’m a little old to think that the word underpants is funny, but sometimes, it just is.