Smells Like Roses.

Angus loves to ask me to tell stories about us all when we were younger. He especially likes me to tell funny stories about us while I push him on our front tire swing. The most recent story I told the boys was about how I used to play fart tricks on my sister Julia when we were younger.

So a few nights ago as I was giving Oscar kisses and tucking him in his bed he said, “Mom could you put your head by my bum for a second?” Playing along, I placed my head near his little behind. At the exact moment my head reached his bum, he ripped a huge one! All four of us cracked up, there was no other option but to. His timing was impeccable, and it was hilarious.


Wait. Back up. Have I not shared my glorious fart tricks of yester-year before? Well, this will be a treat!

When Julia was about six and I was about eight years old we shared a room. Her bed was along one wall, and mine along another. As we were lying in bed just about to drift off to sleep I would say excitedly, "Julia, oh my gosh. You have got to come and smell this. I farted and it smells like ROSES in my bed! I don't know why or how, but seriously my farts smell like the sweetest roses ever!"

And she would, like the loyal and gullible little sis that she was, climb out of her warm bed and step lightly over to mine. Just as she would lean her head in to smell the sweet fragrance of the rose promised to her, I would fling the covers open releasing the putrid odor of five or six bottled up farts.

My farts. Trick farts. Stinky farts.

She would shriek in disgusted disbelief and scurry back to her bed. I would laugh uncontrollably at the success of my flatulent farce.

I was a very good older sister. I did my best to torment her.

The best part about this whole toot scheme was that it wasn’t just a one time gig. It went on night after night. Sometimes I would even get her to come and “smell the roses” twice in the same night! I felt pretty proud of myself on those evenings. Of course, she would protest saying she did not believe me. That she wasn’t going to fall for that trick anymore. But I persisted, and she kept coming over to get a whiff of my rosy smelling SBD’s (silent but deadlies).

Nothing could get me to bust up laughing more than the high pitched squeal of a tormented Julia. I know, I know. I was so mean. But don’t worry, after a while she wised up and realized that my farts always smelled gross. I don’t think she experienced any brain damage from the extreme gas inhalation either. And she still likes me despite my antics. Love you Julia, my dear friend, my dear sister, my dear fart sniffer.

Now we are continuing the fun of fart tricks with our boys, and we wouldn’t have it any other way. 
However sweet rose smelling farts might be nice once in a while