Supermom

Busted In The Bedroom?

Why do kids wake up in the middle of the night? If there some kind of restlessness in their brains that says, “Hey wake up and see what is going on!”. Whatever the reason, the timing is guaranteed to be the absolute worst.

I have a fear that one day the children (or at least one child) will wake at the number one worst time of night. Mommy and daddy “alone” time.

It is a situational cliché that is the basis of many “Little Johnny” jokes and repressed childhood memories. I wonder how many children are accidental victims of such an unmentionable sight?

I can only imagine how things would unfold.

[12:01 am, Children’s Bedroom]

There is a quiet silence in the Underdaddy household. One of the children is tossing and turning only to wake and notice a rustling sound. A sound that is somewhat out of place for midnight. Perhaps they get out of bed to investigate, totally ignoring the boogey man under the bed or the dark hallway. They are, no doubt, intrigued by the curious commotion.

Once they enter the hallway they become aware that the sound is coming from the master bedroom. A mild panic builds with each step.

Are mommy and daddy okay?
Did someone leave a window open?
Are wild raccoons are ransacking their room?

Busted_Coon

Driven forward by fear for family safety, my brave child slowly and silently turns the worthless excuse for a doorknob and prepares to confront the savage animals that must have broken into the house. She edges open the door and is frozen with panic. It is worse than she could have imagined.

Bear attack. Possibly a grizzly.

This is bad. A very pale grizzly bear, beset by a terrible case of the mange with a touch of a farmers tan, is loose in the bedroom and is mauling mommy. My daughter gasps and releases the spring loaded door knob as she turns to run into the living room and hide behind the couch.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, an intense round of Paper, Rock, Scissors delegates Daddy to venture into the living room and return the wayward child back to bed.

Busted_PaperRockScissors

He assures her that; a) A wild bear has not broken into the house and b) she was hallucinating and Mommy and Daddy were playing Scrabble. HOpefully sleepiness will blend this night into a confusing mixup of dreamland memories.

Busted_Scrabble

The next morning will be a silent dance around an invisible elephant in the room. There will be uncomfortable looks and a popular cereal that is somehow not as magically delicious as it was the day before.

If you have been “busted”, this post is for you. You poor bastard. And you’re welcome.Just try to lock that door next time.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Man Watches Fifty Shades and Lives To Tell Tale

Hometown, USA – Underdaddy, mild mannered father of four, bravely accompanied his wife Supermom to a viewing of the much anticipated Fifty Shades of Grey this past Friday. Our correspondent, Imma Shaymed, caught up with the power couple shortly after the viewing to hear how they felt about the controversial soft-core porn.

Shaymed: First off, Thank you! Not many men would agree to this interview or even admit to being present at the painfully  overhyped chick-flick.

Underdaddy: Absolutely Imma. I’m glad to talk to you about it. There were definitely things that I won’t soon forget.

Shaymed: Well, I guess let’s get started with how you got your tickets to this historic event.

Underdaddy: That certainly wasn’t easy. I knew from the Facebook hype that there must be lines of desperate housewives camping for miles into the parking lot for the first glimpse of this revolutionary film. I mean the idea of putting sex into a movie and filling all the gaps with sexual overtones is brilliant. Marketing gold. So one night while I am out for milk I decide to stop by and check the line and maybe get some tickets on pre-sale. When I drove up the parking lot was empty.

Shaymed: No one was camped out in the line?

Underdaddy: Not a soul. I thought there must have been a bomb threat or something. Jane was with me so we walked right up to the window and requested two tickets for the next day at 8:30. The attendant talked to me with a cold detachment and I quickly realized that buying tickets to this proverbial Donkey Show while standing in line with my seven year old daughter might be seen as inappropriate.

Shaymed: Oh how funny! I imagine you were very uncomfortable.

Underdaddy: Like a whore in church.

Shaymed: So Supermom, were you excited to hear that tickets were available?

Supermom: So so excited. I really loved the books and it is more than all the sex. It is a love story and about personal discovery.

Shaymed: Fascinating. Underdaddy, tell us about your experience going to the movie. I have to admit when I heard that you were a man and willing to attend I was blown away at your bravery and obvious sense of marital duty. Heroic.

Underdaddy: Thank you but it’s nothing really. I be lying if I said I wasn’t almost implied fringe benefits. Nothing was ever said but I just got the feeling that it might rewarding if you know what I mean.

Shaymed: I do, I do. Go on…

Underdaddy: Well the evening didn’t start off so great. I suffer from migraines and sure enough about three hours before movie time I am incapacitated by throbbing pain. My eyeballs got into a nasty knife fight with my brain and I was afraid there wouldn’t be any survivors. I knew what was on the line and I wasn’t going down without a fight.

Shaymed: What did you do?

Underdaddy: The only American thing I could think of, I over-medicated to numb all sense of being on planet earth. Then I let my wife drive to the movies. I wrote this article on her driving one time so you know how big of a deal that is.

Shaymed: I read that one. Pure genius. But quit stalling tell us about the movie.

Supermom: I just want to interrupt here and say I’m not that bad of a driver.

Underdaddy: …..Love you…… So we made it to the theatre, purchased our popcorn combo, and joined the small crowd that trampled the attendant who opened the doors to Screen 8. We picked the perfect seat in the exact center of mass of the room. Halfway up and halfway across. All the action would be front and center to our eyeballs. I didn’t realize that meant we would be perfectly surrounded by idiots too.

Why do stupid people talk the loudest in the movies?

Why do stupid people talk the loudest in the movies?

Supermom: It was horrible.

Shaymed: The movie?

Supermom: No, the people around us.

Underdaddy: One time we went to the premier of The Hunger Games and there were a hundred tweens dressed as Katniss and shooting foam arrows around the room while moms gathered together and discussed their underaged children’s sex lives. This was kind of the same experience but imagine the tweens were women in their 20’s and 30’s and instead of arrows they were throwing around sexual innuendo.

Shaymed: That sounds uncomfortable.

Underdaddy: It was interesting. I feel that we are not educating the public on resources that are available, like free porn on the internet. It really is free. And everywhere. I just seemed like junior high school and someone had a nudi-magazine in their locker and everyone was waiting to get a peek. The couple behind us might have been the worst part of the night. The girl kept muttering, “Best Night of My Life!” and I heard a pill bottle rattled several times. The boy had been misled about the event entirely. He seemed to think it was some sort of interactive show like the Rocky Horror Picture Show. I felt certain that some type of bodily fluid would be flying around behind us. I put my jacket hood up just in case.

True Story

True Story

Shaymed: They didn’t have sex in the theater did they?

Supermom: I didn’t want to look.

Underdaddy: No, I don’t think so. But he did sneeze on me later so I was right about the bodily fluids. I think if she had, as she put it, “Not forgotten my f’n Xanax”, they might have made a baby right behind us.

Shaymed: Gross.

Underdaddy: They were kind of gross. And stupid. He asked her, “Is this story fiction or non-fiction?” She replied, “Fiction”. To which he exclaimed, “This shit really happened!!?” I had trouble not turning around to aska followup question but Supermom was already texting me to make fun of them. Just remember, those people will breed and he’ll probably teach his children that fiction is what keeps objects from sliding against each other.

Grey-4

Shaymed: That is unfortunate but enough with the intro information. Tell us about the movie!

Underdaddy: Well, I felt embarrassed and excited right away. It was because of the previews. Did you know there is going to be a sequel to Pitch Perfect? I am really excited about that I don’t care what you say about me. That movie was awesome. Oh yeah, there is going to be a second Magic Mike too. I was embarrassed because I caught myself watching Channing Tatum dancing and thinking, “Wow he really is a good dancer. The pop-and-lock hip hop skills are impressive. I thought the original Magic Mike was just Coyote Ugly with roles reversed for men and women.

Shaymed: And Channing Tatum made tables from scrap.

Underdaddy: That too.

Shaymed: Did the movie actually start at any point?

Underdaddy: Keep you pants on, I’m getting there.

Supermom: That’s what she said!

*high fives on successful “She Said” joke*

Underdaddy: Nice. Yes the movie did start and it played all the way through. There was a lot of detail.

Shaymed: What kind of detail?

Spoiler alert. There were boobies.

Spoiler alert. There were boobies.

Underdaddy: Well, I know both of their grooming habits down under. Not much on razors it appears. I think they did a good job with characters. I was uncomfortable with Mr. Grey the whole time. I have to admit that I was somewhat disappointed though.

Shaymed: What part did you find disappointing?

Underdaddy: There was a storyline. I’m not used to pornos having much of a story. She didn’t order a pizza or plumber and the music was good, not cheesy elevator Muzak.

Supermom: I told you it was a good story and not just about the sex.

Shyamed: So there wasn’t as much sex as you expected?

Underdaddy: No there was definitely a lot of that but there was a story and parts of the characters were extremely believable. Take Anastasia for example, she begs for something unpleasant and he warns her against it. She insists and gives him the cold shoulder until he agrees. Then when it is awful just like he said it would be, she is mad and doesn’t want to talk to him. I had to feel like that is a common side-effect of estrogen and that the author really understands the female thought process.

Shaymed: But what about the social implications or the moral depravity?

Underdaddy: What do you mean? It is a movie. It had all the things the book had so I don’t know how people can be surprised. It was a good movie.

Shaymed: So you enjoyed Fifty Shades of Grey?

Underdaddy: Yeah it wasn’t bad. I will probably watch the sequels. I might wait for the hype to die next time so I’m not trapped in a theater with 90% women acting like this movie is lighting some kind of passionate fire.

Shaymed: You sound a little cynical. Did you not enjoy any fringe benefit from this franchise?

Underdaddy: It’s not that. It is more like I am confused about the hype. Let’s be honest, of the two sexes, females have much more power in deciding when sex or nakedness is appropriate. If the decision was left to men, we would all be a bunch of naked cave people taking a break from sex to gather berries and more wood for the bonfire.

Supermom: I agree, men are on- track minds.

Underdaddy: So if women have more access and power to make things happen. Why do they get so excited over things like Magic Mike and Fifty Shades? Playgirl is a real magazine yet the main audience is homosexual males. For the exact reason that women don’t buy the cow when the milk is thrown at them daily.

Shaymed: I have a disturbing picture of that whole metaphor. Men splashing milk at me. Ugh.

Underdaddy: Sorry. I don’t edit my rough draft thoughts. I probably should.

Supermom: You definitely should.

Shaymed: Were there any other things about the movie that you noticed?

Underdaddy: Hmm. I thought Ms. Steel looked like Anne Hathaway with the emotional presence of Kristen Stewart. Mr. Grey reminded me of Chris O’Donnell with some sort of stroke damage because the right side of his face didn’t move as much as the left. It was a little distracting. Some other parts were a little weak too. Like he is supposed to be a business man billionaire with zero free time but he worked maybe twice in the whole movie.

Supermom: Why do you do that?

Underdaddy: Do what?

Supermom: Ruin movies by talking about what isn’t correct. (looks at me) He does this everytime. It is a MOVIE!

Underdaddy: It is a lie! The movie is a unicorn pipedream that women tell themselves is sexy but really it makes everyone feel worse about themselves. Look at me! I don’t have cool cigarette burns on my chest or a helicopter or a padded bondage room! Is that what you want?!?

Supermom: He is falling in love with her! It is BEAUTIFUL!

Shaymed: Are you guys okay?

Supermom: *glaring* We are great…

Underdaddy: See and now this will be my fault. I ruined the evening.

Supermom: You DID!!!

Underdaddy: You women need to tell the truth! By the time you get done with these movies or books you are emotionally exhausted. You have felt everything you wanted to feel and just want to play candy crush.

Supermom: You watch your mouth! Fifty Shades is a GOOD MOVIE! *punches Underdaddy with a left jab*

Underdaddy: *muffled cursing*

Shaymed: Okay well I think I have what I need here. Are you guys going to be okay to show yourselves out?

Supermom: Oh we’ll be fine. He likes it… *turns her attention to Underdaddy* Did you just roll your eyes at me?

Underdaddy: No ma’am.

The couple quickly left the interview with Supermom leading the way. Underdaddy followed dutifully with his head hung low. The submissive had broken the rules and needed to be punished. The discussion and aftermath stayed in my head for several minutes.

I found I had questions of my own. Why is this movie getting so much hype? Male dominance isn’t new. Sex isn’t new. Fantasy about billionaires rescuing an undiscovered princess is fairly common.

Then I realized that it is the perfect recipe.

Woman’s Best Seller Soup

  1. Powerful yet secretly broken man (You don’t want me I’ll hurt you)
  1. Homely looking woman who he finds irresistible (Why do you want me?)
  1. Unlimited budget of Bruce Wayne (I’ll buy that chick and iPad, chicks love iPads)
  1. Someone making a woman do things that are good for her that she wants to do but feels unable to do on her own free will (If you don’t eat healthy I will spank you)
  1. Woman manages to change a man’s core personality because she is that totally hot and attractive and it erases her feeling of doubt releasing her inner beauty that he saw all along.
  1. Man is totally unattracted to any other women. He is very jealous over her. (Girl you got what I need, but say he’s just a friend, you say he’s just a friend…)

Just distribute that to the general population and let it simmer. Boom. Fifty Shades of Pop Culture hit.


So if you enjoyed the guest article by Imma Shaymed, You’re Welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Threeto Peeto

Don Threeto is always worth reading. Tonight she was on her game.

 It is no secret that we have had a stressful end of 2014 and start to 2015. Quick recap: Prima broke her arm, Lady Bug had a seizure and visited the children’s hospital a few days later, Supermom is dealing with some issues that are related to having four kids, Lady Bug had an ear infection, Supermom has surgery planned for tomorrow to correct an umbilical hernia.

 Of course as we are getting the kids ready to go to the baby sitters (grandparents) we notice that Lady Bug is tugging at her ear again and has a slightly runny nose. We make a last minute call and carry Lady Bug to see the world’s finest physician. Sure enough the ear is infected again so we have to stop at Walgreens on the way to the grandparent’s house. Never mind that we have to report to the hospital at 6:00am.

 That is where the interesting part of the story begins. I am stressed and tired from preparing for tomorrow and trying to make sure my work is complete. Kids are properly assigned. Normal anxiety stuff on top of worrying about a serious medical procedure for my wife.

 We pull up to the pharmacy drive thru and there are six cars ahead of us. No problem. Kids are watching a DVD and I will just catch up on some Facebook. Mom tagged me in a Louis CK standup about four kids that is hilarious. The line creeps along because people don’t understand that drive through service is for pick up and drop off and waiting can be done somewhere else. McDonalds will ask you to pull up in a heartbeat but Walgreens is just too polite for that.

 

We get halfway through the line and I hear Don Threeto.

“Daddy!”

“What?”

“I want nuggets and Lady Bug will take some fries.”

“This isn’t a restaurant.”

“Yep. Nuggets.”

“What does that even mean? It wasn’t a question.”

“Okay Daddy.”

She is back into the movie and I don’t know that she even remembers what she said.

 

Resume the Facebook scroll.

 The cars in front of me move again and I am two cars from the window. I hear Threeto again.

“Daddy! I have to pee!”

“Of course you do.” *sigh*

 Decision time. I can stay in line and risk an accident or take two kids into the store to an almost certainly filthy bathroom (all public bathrooms are filthy to a parent of a four year old). I do the right thing. I get out of line and park in a space. I only have Lady Bug and Threeto with me so it shouldn’t be too bad.

 I am getting Lady Bug out of the carseat and Threeto chimes in again.

“Daddy.”

“Just unbuckle and get out of the car honey, we have to move tonight.”

“I’m trying to tell you something.”

“Okay what is it?”

“Someone peed in my seat.”

“Someone?”

“Yes.”

“Did they pee your pants too?”

“Yes.”

“Awesome. Do you still have to pee?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go.”

 I don’t know about everyone else but during flu season I am wary of doctor’s offices, the hospital, and pharmacies because they are the exact route that really sick people take. Dripping droplets of tainted mucus off their noses and hands and into the air. I should never have watched Outbreak or any coverage of Ebola. Now let’s imagine the bathroom at one of these rest-stop cesspools and trying to get an eighteen month old and a four year old not to touch something.

I beg them to do anything but touch anything.

“Don’t touch anything.”

“Okay Daddy.”

“Do you know what I mean by anything?”

“Yes.”

“Then quit touching the toilet seat…”

“Okay Daddy.”

“Just stand still right there.”

I time my next move. I need to set Lady Bug down, wipe the toilet seat, put Threeto on it, and pick Lady Bug back up before she touches anything. Success.

 We wipe and head to the sink. So far touching surfaces is at a minimum. Then we get to the sink.

“Hey Threeto…”

“What Daddy?”

“Licking is a form of touching something. Lets not lick anything. Especially the edge of the sink.”

“Okay!” (Apparently my detailed explanation motivated her)

She then tries to point out a bathroom mistake.

“Hey Daddy.”

“Yes?”

“My pants are wet.”

“That is because you peed them in the car.”

“Oh right. They not warm.”

 We wash our hands and manage to get out of the bathroom only touching the sink, wall, floor, bottom of a shoe, and the entire surface of the door pull handle. All after the hands washing which is a perfect storm because bacteria do much better on slightly wet hands. I don’t even care at this point. Lick the floor kid. Just make it quick because we need to get home.

 The medicine was not ready because it hadn’t been noticed I think. They promise to work on it and we walk around the store. Lady Bug is giggling and enjoying running behind her big sister. I tell them to stay close because I don’t trust people in general and we are in a high crime location. Maybe not the candy aisle in Walgreens but the neighborhood has a good number of vagrants. Anyway, both children are running together slightly ahead of me when suddenly as they reach the end of the aisle it is like a silent alarm triggers a prison break. Don Threeto breaks right and Lady Bug breaks left. Both in a full run and I have to choose which one to chase. Shit.

I grab the slow one first plus she is nearest the front door and then Threeto comes back around the aisle laughing at her new game. We had a quick discussion and went back to the pharmacy to stare through the window and maybe inspire them to rush. It worked and we were on our way.

Normally, or should I say previously, I would have been done for the night as far as patience and nerves but I was pretty much unaffected. It was funny. My stress level has been reset and taking some time to realize it passes quickly really has helped me be a better parent. Even since starting writing this stuff down I can look back and see little things that are barely a memory in my mind. I encourage everyone to make notes, take a picture, or do something to capture the here and now. Tomorrow is an illusion and yesterday is too. All we have is right now.  

And right now is factures, seizures, and pissing our pants but somehow that is fine with me. It will be better.

 This post is for everyone. You’re welcome.

 

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Women Drivers

Lots of my stories will probably start off with the explanation that being a parent changes you. It is true. Being a dad to a little girl is an extra layer for a dad. I see myself every day in a female form and it makes me think about how they will be viewed in the world. How will the world treat them different than I would have been treated? There are definitely moments that bring tears to my eyes.

For instance, we were all watching a super awesome but somehow depressing show called American Ninja Warrior. The contestants run through an obstacle course like magical fitness hamsters and are rewarded for endurance, strength, and being taller than other people. Women are particularly ill-suited for this game because several of the obstacles favor people who are close to six feet tall. One episode we watched a former gymnast, who was five feet nothing, go through the same course as the men and even put a few of them to shame. She was the first woman to complete the curved wall but she continued to beat the course. My girls were watching and they turned to me with wide eyes when it was over and said, “Wow dad! Did you see what that girl did?” I got a little choked up. I did see and it hit me hard that anyone would be amazed by what women are capable of. They are truly amazing creatures and definitely the better half of whatever poor slob they agree to marry.

I hope that my girls grow up with the strong will and determination that will erase any sexist limits to their success. I encourage them to work really hard on the areas where differences can be easily pointed out. Be better than men in these areas so you push the bar the other direction.

For example, areas such as Driving a Car.

Women are just not as good at this one task and the world knows it. They could be I suppose, I just don’t see it. Look at the Allstate commercial where the man and woman are having lunch and he is amazed that she got a reward check for no incidents. Why would they use that situation in a national commercial? Because the world knows that women don’t focus as well at driving? You tell me. Nobody mention Danica Patrick either, she is the Anna Kournikova of racing.

As a group, women don’t seem to plan ahead and prepare for turns, lane changes, or even driving because of texting, talking, or doing makeup. Then they glare and wonder what the other driver is thinking. If you are a woman who is saying, “That is ridiculous and I am a woman and I am the best driver I know!” You are probably my target audience. Women who think they are excellent drivers usually are the worst. It is like being the oddball in a group. Every group has one and if you can’t think of who it is then it is probably you. (Except for my group, I don’t think we have one.)

I’m not talking about all ladies but a good 75% scare the crap out of me. None more so than a few who are near and dear to my heart. There are some differences in men and women that are fundamental and important to understand. Some mechanics of how we operate may explain part of the driving difference.

First let’s consider men. We focus really well on one thing. I don’t mean just one subject but more like whatever has our attention has our full attention. There is no multi-tasking that is worth a damn. If we are watching a football game and the kids are saying, “Daddy, daddy, Daddy, daddyyyyyyy!” We seriously don’t hear it. At. All. I know if I am reading a good book or daydreaming about sandwiches, everything else (all my senses) goes away. Men put incoming information together in our brain and prioritize subconsciously. So a man sitting on the couch with football and yapping kids will subconsciously pick football. Notice if someone gets hurt and screams the man will jump up instantly. This translates well to driving most of the time because priority in our brains is given to driving. It is thinking about movement and action and danger.

Women are champs at multi-tasking. They can hear what three people are saying while cooking and talking about what to do for so-and-so’s birthday. The chaos that drowns a man’s brain is all part of the ride for a woman’s. Everything is given equal priority. Therefore, while driving, a woman may be more likely to do her makeup or read a novel (I have seen this so don’t try and deny it). The red light or stopped car ahead is given just as much priority as the interesting billboard or talking on the phone.

Don’t get all bent out of shape. Especially, if you are driving at this very moment. Put the iPhone down and come back to this article. It will still be here. Look at the road!

The driving record within my own family supports this theory, overwhelmingly. My own sweet wife, Supermom, admitted to me early on that she believes in this stereotype as true 80% of the time. A good example story for her: When we were still dating we had just left her house one day and she was driving. She veered too far right and almost ran off the road. I mentioned her lacking some certain driving skills and she turned to look at me and berate me for suggesting such a thing. The only problem is that she turned with her head and her hands too. We were once again almost in the ditch. I think that was the day I took over as primary driver..

I put Prima on an electric Power Wheels type car and she didn’t get the concept that the steering wheel affected her direction. She kept the wheel turned completely to the left, foot down on the pedal, and rode in circles with zero regard for mail boxes or other drivers. You should all be terrified that she will be on the road one day. I know I am.

I have four future bad drivers and I really want to explore this issue. I need to know if there is anything I can do or practice with them to help the driving skills

Feel free to post and help me out.

Also, I the interest of fairness I did do a little research and found that the accident rate is about the same overall. Men are more likely to have an accident before age twenty five because of aggressive driving. Women are more likely to have an accident because of…SQUIRREL!

-Underdaddy to the rescue.

Rare Frogs by Jane

Learning to be creative and writing stories are things that our oldest daughter Jane has expressed interest in for some time. We are encouraging her to make up her own stories and books to help her with reading, spelling, and handwriting. So far so good, we are setting aside time each day that will be for Daily Journal entries but she can write a story as an alternative. Today she asked if she could write stories like Daddy does and let people read them. Seeing this as yet another way to let my kids mis-represent my parenting, I said sure.

Protective parents of the world can relax because my approval came with some conditions. First, I will be reviewing posts and interacting with the interwebs. She will write the stories the old fashion way and I will post them through my site. Any creepo’s can move along.

She immediately went to work writing her first story which must have been at the forefront of her mind. What deep and insightful thoughts could she be having that were burning her mind and begging to be shared with the world? After about fifteen minutes of writing she came back with a rough draft. I gave her a little feedback and she went back to work with the second half of the post. I have included below her complete works below with only edits for proper spelling. Enjoy.


One day we were going to sleep and Daddy made up the Mexican Farting Frog and that is what he called my sister and I was laughing all night. In the morning I was still laughing. It was so funny! The next day I was still laughing. Then I quit. It was all good.

The End

A Mexican Farting Frog makes a sound like a pooting noise. It is funny. It smells good too. It is very big. It is big as a Dad.

The End


I didn’t want to color any opinions of the story before you read it but I think it may be award winning one day. Sure it needs a little structure but wow, powerful. Better than where I started for sure. She had someone laughing with her very first work. I enjoyed “It was all good” but I am worried that “It smells good too.”

The actual source of this story (I feel I need to defend myself somewhat) is once again at the magical twilight of bedtime where everyone is tired and careless with words. Now occasionally I will accidentally on purpose let out something like a toot or a fluff. Some might say a fart.

I may accidentally do it a little too often because the eighteen month old knows to giggle. In fact sometimes when she bends over to pick up a toy I provide sound effect with my mouth and she giggles so hard she falls over. Supermom is totally opposed to this, though she has to try not to smile. Who can help it? Farts are hilarious.

So one night while putting the girls to bed I rip one and they all laugh.

Don Threeto: “Daddy was that you?”

Underdaddy: “No.”

Prima: Who was it then?

Underdaddy: Must have been the rare Mexican Farting Frog. They are sneaky.

All: Hahahahaha, Daddy is so funny!

Once again I thought that would be the last I heard of that moment and somehow it takes precedence over useful memories like where they last saw their coats/shoes/juice cup/sister.

So if you teach your kids that farts are funny and to blame them on animals, this post is for you. And for the start of Jane’s story telling career. It is the one thing I would do if I were wealthy and I hope to support that dream if my girls ever have it. You’re welcome.

-Underdaddy to the rescue.