Wednesday, October 18, 2006

What's Cookin'?

As a parent, I'm right there for all of my kids' "firsts": first bath, first haircut, first steps. The firsts are always bittersweet for me, as they signal both the joy of their growth and the heartbreak of their imminent independence.

Tonight, I once again witnessed a wondrous first. I was chatting with Mr. Z as he snuggled into his warm bed, when he let forth with a thundering butt-blast of heinous flatus. Seizing the opportunity, I grabbed his sheet and comforter and pulled them over his head, hermetically sealing the boy in his very first "Dutch Oven."

At first he struggled, trying to fight his self-inflicted gas chamber, but eventually he succumbed, and inhaled deeply the moment. He realized that there's only one "first," and it's an experience to be savored. When the stink-silt settled, I released him from the putrid pocket and regaled him with the dazzling history of what the Spanish call, "El Horno Holand├ęs."

His response? "That was awesome! Let's do that again!"

Of course, my son. There is always room for seconds.

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