I was busy packing up my linen closet, trying to figure out how to cram all of the miscellany that ends up in there into boxes so that I won’t be too confused when I unpack them. I was concentrating hard, and I felt like I was in the middle of a mess.
I looked up and Munchkin was standing there, still as a gravestone. Her face was beet red. Her eyes bulged. She didn’t breathe. Her face told me she was in distress.
Adrenaline ran through my veins. My heart raced. I was sure that she had picked up something on the floor, put it in her mouth, and inhaled it. “WHAT’S WRONG?!?” I barked. “ARE YOU OKAY?!?”
She took a breath, pointed to her crotch, and said, “Fart!”