Saturday night I went to eat with
family friends. These friends have two adorable children, a girl age 7(I’ll
call her Belle) and a boy age 1 ½(I’ll call him Crash). These kids are
seriously funny. Belle is elegant, prissy, but not afraid to get dirty, already
a heck of a hunter as well as a serious basketball player. Crash is all boy,
but flirty and funny, too. Both kiddos are sweet, smart as whips and function
well around adults.
We’re through eating, visiting, and
all of a sudden, Crash sits up straight in his high chair. He has this look of
surprise on his face, says something (we’re not sure what) and points to his
bottom. We laugh, and so does Crash.
Mom: Hey, Crash. Need to go to the
bathroom?
Crash shakes his head no, and goes
on playing, sticking a chopstick into one of those square pretzels, then
popping the pretzel into his mouth. He’s pretty dang good at it.
The conversation quickly morphs to
how loud Crash’s burps are. Belle is avidly describing just how gross her
little brother can get, all the while laughing. She laughs so hard, we all
laugh. And then we hear it. And it is LOUD. And LOOOOOONG.
“Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrt!”
Mom, Dad, and I all turn to look at
Crash, who looks at us, like, “What?” And then, it hits us. That sound emanated
from Belle.
We look at Belle, and she’s got
this surprised look on her elegant little face, but is half smiling, too. Mom
and I look at each other, and start that silent shaking laughter, you know, the
kind that is so strong, it hurts? Tears are flowing down our faces. Belle
starts laughing, Dad starts laughing, and finally, Crash decides he’ll join in,
too.
Lord. You can’t pay for
entertainment like this.
*This is a story from my old blog, transferring over a little at a time. Bear with me!
