What a darling boy, my YoungestBoy.

Friday night bedtime and I said, "Let me read you a book." I picked out Stellaluna, a lovely, award-winning book with beautiful pictures and a moral to the story.

As I'm reading, I suddenly remember this morning, when we were watching "Sesame Street." Rosita had a Frog Prince friend and she was singing him a song. She was going to lose her friend because he would turn back into a Prince.

YoungestBoy suddenly said, "Mom, I'm going to cry, too. That is so sad that she's losing her friend."

My sensitive, sweet boy.

That was what I was thinking (while reading) when he abruptly crawls on top of me and farts loudly.

I say, with mock indignation, "Hey, didn't anyone ever tell you not to fart on your mother?!"

He bursts into giggles and I laugh, too.

After mothering boys this long, it was bound to happen. I laugh at farts.

What's next?