My Little Stinker. Literally.

Our third kiddo, Wyatt, is such a fun little guy. Anytime you are around him, you know that you are sure to be laughing along with his goofiness and silliness.

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He’s also at the 7-year-old “All Boy” stage. That stage that loves to burp and pass gas. You know, fart. Rip one loose. Or, in other words, make his mom want to vomit.

And I am sooooo not liking that part of his silliness right now.


He is also enamored with this little ditty…


“Beans, beans the miracle fruit; the more you eat, the more you toot. The more you toot, the better you feel. So eat your beans at every meal!”

That rhyme has convinced him that passing gas is what every boy needs to do. Hello?! “The more you toot, the better you feel?” He thinks that means that he needs to toot every 3.9 seconds or so. Ultimate bliss for my little guy.

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Last night we had an impromptu campfire out back by our barn where the kids proceeded to roast, burn and eat approximately 6,000 sticky marshmallows. During the evening, Wyatt came and sat down in the middle of my legs and we proceeded to begin a serious bout of cuddle time.

Until he proceeded to rip one loose which is the same exact second that I threw him away from me screaming “That’s disgusting Wyatt!!!” while I tried to cover my nose with my shirt.

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His reply? “What?!? I didn’t even have beans or anything and I still could do that!”

In other related news, I decided to let his Father live for a few more days even though he laughed hysterically throughout the entire event.