Gas stinks.

I am thoroughly convinced that bathroom humor is somehow genetically passed down through the male genes. I just don't get it. Jackson can use the words "tooty," "poop," and others similar as nouns, verbs, and adjectives-- all within a matter of just minutes. His father has taught him the "pull my finger" trick and will laugh uncontrollably whenever the someone toots. So, I shouldn't have been all that surprised when Jackson learned how to make the "tooty noise" by blowing into his hand the other day.

I asked him where he learned how to do that and he boasted, "I just taught myself how to do that!" .... proceeded by tons and tons of giggles.

After waking from his nap this afternoon, he happened to be a bit gassy. And he was totally cracking up about it. I am of course, rolling my eyes and not saying much about it {if I ignore it... it will go away, right!?}.

Then, from the kitchen I hear Jackson in a super whiney sad voice, "I don't like that smell!" And I didn't piece it together at first, but then he said, "I don't like my toot smell!" and so I just told him to move from that spot. And then he said in the saddest voice ever, "I just can't stop tooting and it stinks!" and I just couldn't help but laugh. Poor guy.

Having gas stinks.... and sometimes it smells.