Thunder Buddies

Honestly I can’t remember many thunderstorms since Jackson was born.  I know there’s been a bunch, but he’s such a sound sleeper it’s never really effected him. 

That was until tonight. Massive clap of thunder… “dad that’s God farting.”  No warning, no lead in… just dropped a God fart joke out of nowhere. 

I remember being told thunder was God bowling in heaven… as for the fart theory?  That’s new to me. ‪Out of the mouths of babes. 

Inappropriate, Not if We’re Guys… Right?

Boobs, fart, wiener, butt… Uhhh words that make me laugh for a 100 Alex. As I’m writing that first sentence I literally asked Stef what words make laugh when I hear them and when she said poop I was cracking up. I’m not inappropriate, I’m just a guy. I’m a guy who happens to also be a dad… and dads have sons and sons do funny things that are inappropriately funny.

I’m just not sure when it’s ok to laugh. If I’m with my buddies and someone farts, I laugh. It’s a guy thing (mind you I was raised to be respectful and in general I am). But now I have a son whom I need to be a role model for. As he grows he will inevitably do things and say things that are inappropriate, but that will also be funny.

Tonight was a prime example of what I’m talking about. Let me set the stage: Mom and I are out to dinner at a nice, small restaurant that we’ve been to enough were the people there know us. We are seated and notice Auntie Sue sitting across the room. She promptly comes over and scoops up little Jackson giving Mom and I a few needed minutes to chat and eat by ourselves. Until… Auntie Sue and Jax turn the corner and we see this:

Full on hand down the shirt boob grab. I’m now in hysterics. Mom has turned as red as the marinara on her pasta, but I can’t stop laughing. Inappropriate, yes. Funny as hell, absolutely.

The question is where do I draw the line? When do I have to set a good example and be a role model for my son? Of course by this I mean: be serious and let him know that his actions are not funny… and then laugh like hell on the inside and blog about it later.

Things the Farmers Do Not Tell You

So I am all for a good old American tradition on a football Sunday (as long as we leave early enough and are back in time for Packers kickoff). Heading to the apple orchard or just a good ole farm to hunt for the fattest pumpkin (until you realize they charge .50 a lbs) you can find is part of what makes fall fall.  The thing is… everything is so much more enjoyable when you have a baby with you.  See now have someone to talk to and joke around with while mommy is deep in thought about what farm fresh produce she will bring home… because I could care less.  The thing is there are apparently some unwritten pumpkin picking, farm house rules that until today I was unaware of.


Unwritten Rule #1:  Do not stuff your baby’s jacket with corn stalks and hay and laugh.  I’m not sure when this became a rule, because it was hilarious and I wish I had thought of this at an early age.  I would have 100% done this to myself if Jax wasn’t there.  I would not recommend signing “If I only had a brain” after being told to take the hay out.


Unwritten Rule #2: One rule that I at least can somewhat understand is the one that states DO NOT sit on the pumpkins.  I mean this seems pretty much self explainatory right?  You can crush them or damage them right?  Actually when you think about it… it is pretty tough to damage a pumpkin… I think this rule makes more sense when you take into account the fact Jax has begun pooping though his diaper and pants.  The fart that came out of him has to poison that pumpkin.  I feel bad for who ever carves that one… gives new meaning to the phrase: “it smells like the inside of a pumpkin!”



Unwritten Rule #3:  It is inappropriate to use a gourd as a giant male body part on your 5 and a half month old son.  This is another ridiculous rule. Who hasn’t done this?  This is what sets us men apart from the rest of the world… we can use funny looking things and pretend they are our wiener. Either way I guess this is frowned upon in the pumpkin picking world.  And to that I say BOO farm… BOO!