Lilah has become a world-class farter. I say this not out of pride, but of warning to the general public. What started as a stinky pastime to annoy her sister and her parents, often blaming it on her imaginary friends that would do such horrible things intentionally to loved ones like crawl in bed and waft death under the covers, has become a way of life. I had foolishly figured this was boys’ territory, remembering the methane wars of my youth with my brother and father and uncles. Girls had more sense and propriety, even at a young age, to be involved in such domestic acts of terror. How stupid was I. Or, perhaps, having me as their stay at home life-ruiner has captured another dubious flag. Sorry, girls.
Admittedly I didn’t come down hard on the fart wars between the sisters. Who am I to interrupt healthy, active play that doesn’t involve fighting or dangerous props? Sure, chase each other around the house and try and fart on each other’s heads. Don’t leave bacon strips in your panties for me to have to wash later. OK and now you have to stop, that’s enough, no straining. Fart war over. Read, draw a picture, go jump on the trampoline or something less embarrassing if company ever comes over again.
And how am I to reprimand Lilah for farting on Uncle Brad after he wrestles too hard with them? They have no real dukes against the not-always-gentle-giant once he gets going, grabbing them too hard or smushing them until they almost start crying. Until they screamed that it was enough, punctuated by my little gymnast Lilah’s perfect handspring over to Brad as he sat grinning on the couch. A technically perfect vault, her tiny butt to his face and fwoopt! A stinky biscuit launched perfectly up his nose.
“Lilah! Oh my God you little demon!! UGH!!”
Laughter and scattering girls, and justice prevails. You mess with that bull you get the butt.
Now as Lilah gets older and slowly grows up, she’s putting everything in jars. Saving them, observing them, preserving them. Sparkly fairy dust, butterflies, snails which she waters 3 times a day with squirt guns. And, apparently, farts.
“Daddy can I have a jar?”
“For what?
“I wanna see if I can save a fart. Put one in there and wait awhile and then Whoof,” she mimes opening the Mason jar, “I unleash it on Sophie.”
“Dad, NO!!” Sophie exclaims from the table, no longer deeply engrossed in her homework.
“Lilah…”
“PLEASE Daddy. I think it will work.”
“It doesn’t. Farts evaporate.”
“No they won’t. Not if I capture them with a jar real tight.”
I sigh and look at her round, pleading face. So cute and sincere. My little fart terrorist.
“Lilah, you can’t keep a fart in a jar. I tried.”
“When did you try?”
“Over and over when I was a kid. We had no computers or satellite TV, so we were bored a lot and we were boys anyway, so that involved a lot of stupid stuff like seeing if you could save a fart in a jar. It never lasts. We tried over and over.”
It was embarrassing to admit, but at least she knows. Rather be honest about my shortcomings and stupidity now. Learn from my stupid mistakes.
“Don’t try and fart in a jar, Lilah. You can’t undo that.”
She throws her chin to her chest and walks off. Theatrical disappointment, off to her room. I make snacks and think of all the stupid crap I tried when I was a 10-year old boy. Jumping off the garage roof with an umbrella. Tearing the wings off flies and then chasing them with a magnifying glass. Building giant ramps and going to the emergency room to have gravel plucked out of my face. You can’t trap life in a jar, Lilah. The ethereal joys and horrors of youth don’t last. Enjoy your butterflies and farts now. They wilt when you trap them. That’s what I should have said….
“Oh Lilah! YUCK!!!” I hear from the dining room.
“It worked! It worked Daddy!!” Lilah comes in with a large, black ring box. She snaps it open and shut, laughing hysterically.
“That’s GROSS Lilah!” Sophie yells.
Lilah farts into her ring box and snaps it shut again.
“Here Daddy smell it works!”
I run away and she chases me with her fuzzy, black, chemical weapon. I should have just given her the stupid jar.
Delightful and adorable!!
Only Lilah. And only you could find meaning in the whole thing and write so well about it.
So funny!