One evening, someone, who shall remain nameless, farted. (OK, it was me.) About one second later Sam, who was sitting right by me, and I got up to get some ice cream. We walked by Matt on our way to the kitchen.
Once in the kitchen, Sam whispered to me, "Mom, I carried your fart over to Dad so he would have to smell it."
I said, "How did you carry it?"
"I held it in my nose until I got by Dad and then I blew it out towards him."
Seventeen years, seventeen stories.
20 hours ago