Because Boogers and Skunks Are Important Stuff, Right?

Tonight the boys and I were having a conversation about 

boogers on our way home from dinner.

I know.  

Boogers are gross.

At least this conversation wasn't going on DURING dinner...

After some talk about why they have boogers, they both sat quietly, 

contemplating the information I'd just served up about germs and 

how their noses keep the germs from getting inside and 

making them sick, yada, yada, yada.

Well, I'm hoping they were quietly contemplating and not just searching 

for an example of what we'd just talked about.  I mean that is gross.

After sitting in silence for a few minutes, I hear an all-too-familiar noise.  

"Mommy," Goose yells (Yes, yells.  I am sitting less than a foot in 

front of him in the driver's seat, but that is of little importance to him.  

He acts as if the fact that he can't see me means I can't hear him). "I jus' part."

In Goose's world, to "part" is to have flatulence.  

The kid was passing gas in the car and announcing it to Tink and I.  

Lucky. Us.

"Ok, buddy.  Farting is alright if you can't help it.  I mean, doing it outside 

in open air so we don't have to marinate in the fart is preferable, but if you've 

gotta do it, then you've gotta do it.  Let's hit the bathroom and try to poop 

when we get home. Deal?"

"Deal."

(Roughly 10 seconds later)

"Mommy!"

Goose is yelling again.

"Yes, baby?"

"I 'mell someting... I 'mell a 'tunt!"

"Uhhhhh... No, sir.  That isn't a skunk.  It is probably your fart."

"Mommy!  My part 'mell like a 'tunt!"

"Yep, sure does, Goose.  That is what the inside of your butt smells like."

He sits quietly, again, for just a few seconds.

"Mommy?" 

He is talking softly now.  

Well, relatively speaking, anyway.

"Yeah, buddy?"

"I got a 'tunt in my butt?"

"No, baby.  You don't have a skunk in your butt."

"Why?"

"You just don't.  Let's not talk about skunks or butts or farts anymore."  

"Why?" 

"Because Mommy doesn't have any further explanation for why your 

butt smells like it does and I don't feel like trying to explain how I can be sure 

there is not a skunk living in your butt.  I just know there isn't one."

"Why?"

"I don't know.  Let's ask your daddy when he gets home."

Boom.

Silence.

And that is how you put a stop to the 

never-ending "why' questions and end a conversation.

Tell them you know nothing and they must ask the other parent.

Daddy is gonna be REALLY confused when 

Goose asks him about the skunk in his butt...