The joys of 8-year-old boys

Who knew that farting was so much fun? Certainly not me, but at 1 a.m. even I couldn't help but snicker at some of the loud, fake farts coming from the sleeping bags on the floor. I giggled more than once as I sprawled on the futon trying to keep the noise down to a dull roar.

"Sshhhh" I'd intone.

Absolute silence. Then 30 seconds later: "Phhhbhhhhthhhthhht" followed by shrieks of laughter. Then "That was Chris. Phew. That was a juicy one." "Was not. It was you." "No! It was William. I know it was him. It was a fake one." "It was real. I smeeeellll it and it stiiinks in here." "Hey guys, it was *me*. I farted LOUD. Did you hear it?"

Me: (suppressing a giggle): "Sshhhh.. It's after 1 a.m. Please. You can whisper, just please stop yelling."

Absolute silence.. Then "Phhbhhhbthththththt" and so on...

This morning the boys ran down for breakfast laughing and saying: "That was soooo coool last night."

I wait to hear them praising how cool it was I let them go to the baseball game even though it was drizzling, the 'Nilla wafer and pudding cake, staying for the aftergame fireworks, or the "build your own ice cream sundae" I let them eat after we got home.

What I hear is: "Yeah. We were *farting* all night. Everyone just kept farting and farting. That was soooo cooool!"

Well, at least now I know the secret to a cool party. Next year I'll save the nearly $100 we spent on food and entertainment and just buy a a dozen or so whoopie cushions.

And some ear plugs.