Furrks

Yesterday morning, Dominic came hopping into our bed, as he does every morning. There was a random loud noise, that sounded much like the passing of gas, and I jerked up and looked at Dominic wide-eyed.

Dominic dissolved in a fit of giggles and said, "It wasn't me, Mommy! I promise! It wasn't me!"

I knew it wasn't, but it was fun to mess with him.

As he laid his head back down, he said, "Mommy, sometimes my toots are furrks."

I laughed inside, knowing that he thought he was pulling one over on me, and that he was going to educate me. But I asked anyway. I had to ask what a furrk was.

He said, "Sometimes a furrk comes out of my bottom, and sometimes it comes out of my mouoth." I must have had a skeptical look on my face, because he nodded vigorously and said, "For real, it does." I said, "OK" and laid back down.

But I didn't want to let it die, because it was such a funny conversation. So I kept asking question, asking him to pronounce it more slowly, asking him to repeat it for Jon.

I finally had to tell him, "Dominic, a furrk is really called a Fart - it's just another word for toot, but 'toot' sounds better. And I guarantee you, it will never come out of your mouth."