I suppose it’s my own fault. I can’t stand the word “fart.” When my eldest daughter was born it sort of started as a joke.
“Girls fluff, boys toot.”
That was the agreement at the end of a discussion between some friends and myself. From that point on, the baby boys tooted and the girls fluffed. I liked the gentler language for this particular bodily function.
It seems to have somewhat backfired with my middle daughter. She refuses to acknowledge farts/fluffs at all. She doesn’t poop either. Or burp. Even if you catch her red-handed she denies it, and if you press her about it or tease her she gets very distressed. No teasing on this subject, since she takes it very seriously. She hates all of these bodily functions so much that she withholds.
On the other hand, my youngest says to me the other night,
“Mommy, is there something wrong with me?”
“Why do you ask me that? Of course there’s nothing wrong with you, but why would you ask me that?”
“Because… never mind.”
“No, tell me. You can’t ask me that and then say ‘never mind.'”
“Is there something wrong with me because I think farts and burps and gross things are funny? And I like horror movies. I like gross and nasty things. They’re cool and funny. I’m a girl. Is there something wrong with me?”
“No, honey. Those things can be funny… but maybe we should ask certain uncles of yours to stop farting so much in front of you and then blaming their baby for it.”
“YEAH! Okay. Are you SURE there’s nothing wrong with me? Because that stuff is REALLY funny!”
“I love you.”
::giggles:: “I love you too, Mommy.”