Farting chickens

Lucas turned five years old back in January and suddenly a whole new can of silly seemed to opened up.

It started with the word chicken a few months ago. Where did this addiction to the word chicken come from? School, of course. There's a game they play in class where the teacher says things like "if you're wearing red grab a block from the centre of the circle". The first kid to get three blocks shouts out "Winner, winner chicken dinner!" and so chicken was born.

One day, Lucas was playing with his sock on his foot and I told him it looked like a sock puppet. He started moving his foot around and decided Chicken Von Schlickin was the perfect name for his little friend. "Ewww, that's Chicken!" is another favourite. Who would have thought the word chicken would pave the way to months of continuous entertainment.

Not only is the word chicken a winner but so are farting noises, the words fart, toot and butt, and anything to do with things that are stinky. We've recently welcomed a new addition to the family -- Hoppy Farty Pants. I forget what sparked this creation.

Steve seems to be getting a kick out of all of this (re-living his youth perhaps) and even fed into the obsession by presenting Lucas with his first ever farting key chain -- a proud father-son moment. I'm just waiting for the whoopee cushion to make an appearance. I'm guessing I better get used to this if Steve still finds it amusing.

I was helping out in Luke's classroom not long ago. The kids were all outside while the teacher and I were inside prepping materials. Lucas occasionally brings things to school (a marker, small toy, notebook) even though I keep telling him that if he has somehow got by me in the morning with something from home that it should stay in his backpack at school. The teacher goes on to tell me how he had brought in a key chain one day and that she would normally tell him to put it away...yadda, yadda, yadda. I felt my face getting red, my heart starting to race and all I could think about was the farting key chain. Let's hope this woman's sense of humour is in check. Then she goes on to say how she thought it was so sweet that Lucas was carrying around a picture of his sister. The vomit that had started to burn the back of my throat began to creep back down as I realized she was talking about the key chain I have of the kids on my keyring. I forgot that I had let Lucas hold it during one of his morning meltdowns. It was the only way to get him on the bus that morning. Phew, another embarrassing moment dodged.