We spent a crazy day outside today and it was marvelous. In the afternoon I spent some time with a friend and her kids at a fountain downtown and of course things came up in conversation. Like poop, ok. WE’RE MOMS!

It’s so funny that when I have these conversations with friends I almost always experience them in real life.

So – we were talking about how gassy her baby is and OH MY WORD gas and poop in infants is a topic more popular than porn among 13 year boys. I’m just saying. So you don’t have to feel uncomfortable, because we weren’t.

Oliver is like his sister in that when he’s frustrated his birth mark on his neck flares up and he toots. Thats how we know our kids have had it. A blood red strawberry mark on their neck and the farting. It’s effective. And Oliver isn’t one for talking these days. At 15 months of age he can say “All Done!” and “Dada!!!”, he’ll woof like a dog and roar like a lion, dinosaur and bear but the words … are more like grunts and we listen to them. So you know, we’re helping.

Until today. His diaper has said more sentences than Al Gore on the topic of Global Warming. Yes, I know!

He’s been just as surprised by this little development as we have and he’ll stop – mid grunt/question and pointing gesture to get my attention to really make his point. That point being about how much fun it is to stop whatever he’s doing to toot out the national anthem with butt punctuation.