I'm afraid Froggy is more like her father than I had hoped. That sounds mean, but you'll understand in a second. And for those of you who know FD, you already understand.
As I was changing Froggy's diaper today, she tooted. It was an open tushie toot, and the echo resonated throughout the bedroom. I laughed and said, "Peeeeeyuuuuuu!"
She then tooted again. And again. And again. And again. All for the amusement of hearing her own flatulance. When she was out of gas, this little engine kept trying. Her little face got red, and then turned to disappointment, when she realized her superpowers were merely 'temporary.'
Yes, this stinky little apple did not fall far from her Daddy's tree. And tonight, when I tell FD about his daughter's new talent, I know his eyes will fill with tears, out of pride; pride in knowing his babygirl finds bodily noises (especially her own) to be the highest form of comedy.
What's a Froggymama to do? I guess I'll invest in some whoopie cushions and go with the flow.
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