Last night Tim was sitting on the love seat a little cock-eyed and I sat down next to him and slung my legs over his legs like I often do. A minute later Noah is climbing up beside me and crawling over me to get to the prime spot between Tim and I. As he passes in front of my face, he farts.
I say to him, “Hey, don’t fart on me!”
He looks at me trying to figure out if I’m mad or if I’m playing and says, “I didn’t fart ON you.”
Tim starts to chuckle and says, “What, did you step on a duck?”
“No! I didn’t step on a duck!” At two, he’s still never sure where the kidding/reality line is. But then he looks at Tim’s face and realizes this is one of the times Dad is kidding.
By now I’m rolling my eyes, I don’t think the duck thing is really all that funny, but Tim thinks it’s hysterical and it never gets old for him so he keeps going. “Are you sure, it sounded like a duck.”
“It was a duck. In my butt. A duck, in my butt. It said, quack, quack! Quack, quack!”
Now I have to turn away to laugh because Noah is just going on and on about the duck quacking. I’m pretty sure this isn’t where Tim intended the conversation to go…
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