My commute is slightly shorter now, but I’m still driving a total of three hours a day and working full time. Will used to wake me up everyday at approximately 5:30 and I’d cuddle with him in the morning. But for some reason, ever since we moved he has been sleeping in. Which means he’s still slumbering away when I take off for work and I spend zero time with him. Then, after I get home, I have 90 minutes to eat dinner, give him a bath and then put him to bed.
He’s been acting out lately too. I get it though. After all, we pulled him from his house, his school and took away his pets. I think he’s rebelling a bit and rightly so. But that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with him and the frustration level on both sides has been high.
But I missed being in a groove and connecting with him. I felt like all I did was work, get home and then discipline him for acting out. Not fun.
It was looking like more of the same tonight after work. I got home, he was being a little shit and I had to send him upstairs. When he stopped crying, we talked and I let him come in my room as I changed out of my work clothes and into shorts. He was pouting and looking the other way, so I nudged him with my foot. He kind of half-grimaced, half-smiled and pushed me back. So I tickled him under his armpits. He giggled and pushed me away.
And then—as we stood staring at each other—he farted.
The look on his face was priceless. He laughed, but then clammed up because MJ reprimands him heartily when he farts or burps in front of her. Even though he desperately wanted to crack up, he was simultaneously petrified that he was in trouble. He just stood there, waiting for my reaction.
“William,” I said with an expressionless face. “I want you to listen to me and listen good, OK?”
“OK dada,” he whimpered, expecting the worst.
I walked over, looked him right in the eye—and let one rip.
I’m not sure what exactly it is about guys and our amusement with bodily functions, but the two of us laughed like hell. Seriously. I don’t remember ever laughing so hard, and Will could barely breathe with all of his belly laughs. For a good two minutes we just cracked ourselves up over and over again. We had just about stopped when Will told me to be quiet, scrunched up his face and farted again. Which started another round of irrepressible laughter.
Then he wrapped his arms around my neck and said “I love you Dada.” And just like that I was out of my rut and back in the groove.
Behold the power of flatulence.