January 04, 2008
Airing Things Out
This year, Santa decided that it would be great fun to leave whoopee cushions in everyone's stocking. I received two, perhaps one for each cheek, or maybe as a sign that I ought not to get a hot chocolate from Starbucks every day, even though it's how I talk myself out of bed in the morning.
The boys think this is great fun. You get to play a trick on someone, which is hilarious in and of itself, and said trick results in a fart noise. Whoopee! How aptly named is this device.
They are good sports about it, too, recognizing that a brother's enjoyment comes partly from the deception. Even though the whoopee cushion is always in plain view, the "victim" pretends as if he doesn't see it, and sits down extra hard. Forget the more expensive toys; most of Christmas Day's play consisted of my sons nonchalantly asking one of their brothers to "have a seat," or "come sit down," as if this is everyday conversation for young boys. "Sure," is the reply, and then the fart sound, and then they roll around laughing.
Eventually, Eli came to me with a mournful look. He'd become over-exuberant with his whoopee cushion, filling it too full of air. It burst. "Since you got two," he asked through his sniffles, "can I have one of yours?"
"Sure," I told him, as if I had a choice, as if I can say no to that sad little face. I suppose this means I really will have to lay off the hot chocolate.
Christmas night I made a pot of Christmas chili (it has red and green peppers in it). I played Handel's "Messiah" on the stereo. As I chopped peppers I could hear, mingled with the appearance of the angel to the shepherds, the sounds of farts and giggles. Somehow, this seemed right. That's part of the significance of the annunciation to the shepherds, that the King of kings was introduced to the lowest of the low, completely upsetting the hierarchies of man. Those shepherds were an uncultured lot, after all. Who knows, perhaps Handel might have incorporated the whoopee cushion, had it been available to him.
I like to think that more of our highbrow than lowbrow ways will rub off on our children, but maybe it's best if they get an equal dose of both. I can't imagine, after all, getting along with anyone who can't appreciate a whoopee cushion. In fact, once they're older, and serious about some young lady, I'll recommend that as the test. If she laughs, she's a keeper; if not, throw her back and keep fishing. Because we're rednecks that way.
Posted by Woodlief on January 04, 2008 at 08:00 AM
After reading about that chili you described, it seems as if the whoopie cushions were most likely not needed. heh.
Posted by: dan at January 4, 2008 10:45 AM
One evening after my children ignored every single table manner we thought we taught them, I made the mistake of slamming my hand down on the table so hard it made my poor wife leap at least 6 inches off her seat and scream. The 5 and 7 year old froze for 3 seconds then started to giggle so hard they cried. Of course that got me going and the 3 of us could no longer hold it together. My wife was not amused.
The sight of children laughing THAT kind of laugh is awesome to behold. We've had to reenact the hand slamming at least once a week much to my wife's dismay (but she does love the giggles).
Happy 2008, Tony!
Posted by: Anthony at January 4, 2008 10:56 AM
That is awesome. Seriously, what is funnier than a fart?
Posted by: Jack Ensor at January 4, 2008 7:46 PM
I have four girls and one boy. They all equally find flatus (real or fabricated in whatever way imaginable) to be high humor. Even our sweet little one year old, Claire, will sense comedy in her own little gastronomic perturbation. Needless to say, our house is a real (sorry) gas.
Cheers, Tony. Happy New Year.
Posted by: Rob Hadding at January 4, 2008 9:55 PM
We got our 6 and 5 year old grandchildren (boy and girl), the "Walter the Farting Dog" books for Christmas, along with a stuffed Walter, who farts. The hilarity that ensued was unbelievable! They call us on the phone to leave farting messages. Aren't little kids just great?
Happy New Year! Sue
Posted by: S. Wilbur at January 5, 2008 2:54 PM
A couple of days after I wrote this post, I heard our six-month old making noises like that with his lips, and giggling. His poor mother.
Posted by: Tony at January 7, 2008 3:21 PM
Fart humor abounds! My eight grandchildren celebrate the occasional arrival of a whoopee cushion more than just about any treat. Just when I thought we'd graduated to more sophisticated humor, one of my partners reported that in his golfing foursome that day was one of our partners, a woman, from another office, an accomplished lawyer and golfer. He said her ball needed a firm swing to pop out of the rough near the green and still stop on the putting surface, during which swing she burbled out a sharp report of flatulance. Without allowing a second to pass, Jack (oops!) said "Nice out!", the response to which was all four golfer lying on the ground shaking in laughter.
The venerable whoopee cushion may appear as the next great corporate gathering "Ice-breaker."
Posted by: Ron Williams at January 7, 2008 4:57 PM
Tony - thank you SO much for the hilarity! I'm laughing out loud. When Cheryl and I were kids, we too had Whoopee cushions and had a ball trying to place it strategically under the sofa cushion before Grandmother Dean would sit down. More than once, she said her usual (and I mean that!) "whoops". It was hilarious. I still believe it's one of the funniest gifts possible.
Thank you for sharing Christmas day at the Woodleaves. Wish I could've been there!
Posted by: "Aunt Nisey" at January 13, 2008 2:26 PM
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