Friends, I want to talk about gas.

Listen here. Farting is not shameful. It can be gross and it can be smelly and in the case of my 98 year old great grandmother and certain baby panda bears it can be pretty stinking cute. But lets get something straight… unless you’ve had your asshole sewn up recently, EVERYONE lets one go at some point or another.

I just happened to be in Target this morning, in the pool aisle. Its not a big aisle and there was a lady down at the other end, a very posh looking woman. She was perusing the products and minding her own business and I was doing my best to corral two very bored orangutans down the aisle when OH. MY. GOD.

The smell drifting down to us was HEINOUS. Like, a sick, dying mouse crawled inside the rectum of an incontinent badger and was eaten by a rabid coyote with anal leakage issues. Seriously. Now, I know this is weird, but I can tell when my kids fart. They each have a special scent that I can trace back to the culprit, much like a mother zebra marks her babies stripes. Its very primal. And this DID NOT come from my kids. Being 7 and 4 and *possibly* due to the fact that their mother likes to shout “I’m prairie doggin’!” and run theatrically for the bathroom after a long car ride home, they simultaneously opened their mouths to alert me (and anyone within a five mile radius) that SOMEONE had made a tooter and exactly who did it. I could see their little minds working and I could see the woman at the far end of the aisle paying extra special attention to the box of the pool cover that she was looking at.

Thankfully, there was a whole row of toys in the next aisle. I grabbed thier hands and dragged them to go see all the cool toys that I will never buy them. And true to form, we were maybe five feet from the offending aisle when Ivy declared “something smells ah-sgusting.” Yes indeed, something does.

Somebody light a match.