So we were playing one of our usual games, entitled The Ryan Pillow. A typical game goes as follows:
Me: Oh, I'm so tired, where's my Pillow? [Ryan lies down and I put my head on his back/belly.]
Me: Oh, Pillow, be quiet, I'm trying to sleep!
R: [Wiggling like a worm about to be hooked]
Me: I'm dreaming that I'm riding on a bumpy train track, oh, it's getting bumpier, no wait, it's just my Pillow. Now settle down Pillow!
And so forth. It's funny and giggly until someone, usually me, gets punched in the eye.
Today, we discovered a different version of the game (as you no doubt discerned from the title of this post), as follows:
The Ryan Pillow game is in full wiggly jiggly giggly swing when I notice an odor emanating from the Pillow.
Me: Oh Pillow, what's that smell? Pillows don't fart, no more please!
Whereupon Ryan rips a big one, as if on command! And then another! And then another! Laughing all the way!
Is this a Boy Thing where these people can just release gas from any orifice on demand?
Now I can't truly blame him, as The Pillow Game is very much a game about opposites, where he does X as I emphatically demand that he do Y. I suppose I should have demanded that he become a natural gas company and start heating up the house and I would have been spared. So really, it's my fault.
By the way, he thought he was hilarious. Sigh. My baby's all growns up!