Posted by: Jamie Stamm | May 26, 2009

He’s 100 percent boy

Anthony’s preschool teacher greeted us at our van this morning, as she has each Tuesday and Thursday since September, with a bright smile for my little man.

“Good morning, Anthony,” she said.

As Ant returned her greeting with one of his million-dollar grins, I thought to myself, “Ah, back to normal.” Because for the past three or four weeks, Ant hasn’t wanted anything to do with preschool. He’s hidden behind me and clung to my legs, tugging on my sweatpants until he’s almost pulled them down. He’s whined, and he’s cried. He even refused to leave the van one day, crawling into the back seat with me following close behind. (Despite his arrival theatrics, however, his teachers assure me that the second I leave the parking lot, he’s back to normal. And he’s always all smiles by the time I pick him up.)

But with this morning’s grin, I was certain there would be no fighting with Mama. As he opened his mouth, I anticipated a sweet greeting for his teacher that would wash away the frustration of the previous weeks.

Instead, he declared, “I farted.” (Actually, when Ant says it, it’s more like “fah-ted.”)

“You what?” his teacher asked.

“I farted,” he repeated, then paused, squinched up his face, laughed and said, “I just farted again.”

Ah, yes, that’s my son. The one who greets his teacher not with, “Good morning, Ms. Michele,” but with “I farted.”

The one who farts. A LOT.

The one who burps. A LOT.

The one who lately feels the need to announce the occurrence of each and every bodily function. And then collapse in fits of giggles.

He’s all boy, this one is.

I’ve been trying to impress upon Ant that there are some things we can – and should – keep to ourselves. Like when he farts in the bathtub and then announces it, causing his sister to freak out.

“Mom, Ant farted in the bathtub!” she cries, getting as far from him as possible. “Gross! He’s disgusting!”

It’s also not appropriate to declare your bodily functions, I’ve told him, when you’re at school, the grocery store, even the pizza parlor, where last Friday at dinnertime, Ant announced that he had farted not once, not twice, but three times. I was a bit surprised the couple at the table behind us didn’t get up and move.

So far, nothing has sunk in.

Hmmm …. maybe I need to stop laughing along with him every time he burps or farts (yes, I did let a giggle slip in front of his teacher – great parenting, huh?).

But it is kind of funny. And he is very cute.

I guess that, until he learns his manners (or some self-control), I’ll just have to hope other people think the same.



  1. Sounds like my boys. I’m still trying to explain to my 6.5 year old that he doesn’t need to announce his bodily functions to the world.

    And yeah, I giggle too.

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