A fart is a fart no matter where it comes from.

When my seven-year-old grandson was between one and two, he learned from my son and his friends that passing gas was laughable. So, one day, my precious grandson and I were at the library and we were picking out books for me to read and there were children and parents everywhere and he, my then baby but now seven-year-old grandson, passed an obnoxiously loud and smelly toot. He looked around and began to snicker and said, “Nana, I sarted.” I tried to ignore him, but the other children were laughing and one of the other children, maybe five or six years old, farted also. Then they all began to laugh louder and louder and the parents began to snicker. Well, I tell you this because yesterday, I was at Harps buying a few things and the woman in front of me had a toddler, maybe two or a little over, and the toddler’s face turned a bright red and then the explosion and he began to laugh. I looked at his mother and said, “His uncle.” She said, “No. His father.” Please, can someone tell me why men, or young men, find gas expulsions funny? And of those men who find humor in scataology, why is it they want to teach it to the little male toddlers. Now, my seven-year-old grandson is proud he can fart with his armpit, another talent contributed to him by my son and he even told me he can make his belly look like a butt. Geeze, will this ever end?