You Must Remember This: A Quiff is Just a Quiff

Ahh, the sounds and activities of summer. Crickets chirping, frogs ribbiting, lawn mowers mowing, kids.....armpit farting.

The kids have become quite proficient at armpit farting. They can't get enough of it. Hand cupped under the opposite armpit, their bony elbows madly flapping away trying to get the most exquisitely squishy pit-burps they can muster.

Their grandmother told them a story about a little boy she knows who's father sings Elvis songs while the boy armpit farts to the beat. So Brendon is on a quest to get the rhythm and beats just right for his own musical tastes.

Jessica is pretty good at it. While she's quite accomplished at technique, she isn't as ambitious and goal oriented as Brendon and throughout the day randomly squirts out an armpit fart or two. Sometimes she has a bit of trouble and requests my help:

"Hey mom, can you fart my armpit?"

"Uh....NO!"

Jacob on the other hand is working on getting the hang of the artform (fartform). Although if you ask him, it's called uncle farting. He has identified his armpits as his "uncles" (no correlation to the men in his life) and the crooks of his elbows as his armpits. I tried to correct him of his anatomical identification error, but he argues his point and I shrug my shoulders and say "suit yourself". Arguing with a 4 year old is like arguing with a drunk....they're belligerent, incoherent, and mentally incapable of listening to reason....ergo, it will get you nowhere, so don't bother.

"Quiff....quiff....quiff", says the sound of Jacob's "uncles". He gets frustrated, but he'll get the right sound on one of these hazy, lazy summer days.