This afternoon K was off scrapbooking with a friend, so when E woke up from his nap, we went outside to play in the kiddie pool. Taking a break from pretending to be turtles and pouring buckets of water on each other, I lay back in the water and looked out across the field. The thick, soggy heat of earlier in the day had dissipated just enough that it wasn't miserable out and E was fully rested and happy. A flock of glossy ibises ambled through the short green sprouts of whatever was planted in the fields around our house this year. Off in the distance, miles beyond the ibises, a thunderstorm slowly rumbled across the eastern horizon, and, as I watched the giant irrigation system draining our water table to keep the corn field on the other side of our property line from twisting, I thought about how sitting in two feet of water really helps you know whether or not you're farting.
Without the bubbles, sometimes I just don't know.
2 comments:
So you taught E a new trick? Awesome. 'Cause the male population hasn't been obsessed enough with gas.
Hee! I imagine E's bubbles get stuck in his diaper.
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