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?”