My Son and his Super powers

When I started writing this blog, there were certain things I never expected to write about. This is one of them.

Lately, there has been something wrong with my son. I don't know what he ate or what other reason there could be for this problem, but he is having some really bad gas. And although I feel for him, I truly do, his problems pale by comparison to the horrendous living conditions he has subjected the rest of us to on a far too regular basis.

In our house we refer to them as "toots," although as I write that it seems about the silliest thing to call them. In my son's case, there is no tooting that preceeds nor accompanies these awful blasts, just silent and deadly strikes. Some warning would be very much appreciated, but these are the definition of sneak attacks.

Since this problem started, I have been getting angry with my son each time he inflicts his issue on the rest of us. Is this fair? Does tooting break any laws? Is there a house rule which precludes tooting? The answer to all of these is no, but I just can't see myself grinning and bearing it. I understand that it needs to happen, and he hasn't chosen this odour (that hits you like mace), but it's just not a thing that can be ignored. It can't.

And I know he tries to avoid this problem. Yesterday, he was on the couch, and I heard him say, "hold it in, hold it in!" so I know he wishes he wasn't slowly killing us. Last night, while still on the couch, he said "Daddy, my tummy really hurts!"

Why doesn't that surprise me?

Feeling the weight of the family on his shoulders, he then said, "I don't have to go to the bathroom, but I can't stop farting!"

At times like these, we abandon the word tooting.

"That must be my power," he continued. "I'm a superhero."