Upstairs, Brownstairs...

Day five of the President's Day Week All Children Left Behind-a-palooza today -- we've all pretty much had it with each other by now. I was in the basement, in a pretty important meeting with work (via the TeeVee), Mr. Z was mainlining some Wii on the first floor and Miss O was upstairs, in her room, doing whatever the shit is she does in her room.

SOMEONE AT WORK: ... And so, we should do this very important thing as soon as---

MISS O (barely audible): DAD!

SOMEONE AT WORK: ... really crucial thing you need to pay attention to--

MISS O (a little less barely audible): DAAAAAAD!!!!

I mute my camera and yell...

ME: WHAT?!

MISS O: (inaudible)

ME: I CAN'T HEAR YOU!! WHAAAAT?!!!

MISS O: (top of her lungs) I THINK I JUST SHARTED!!!!!

ME: YOU SHARTED?!?!?!!

MISS O: YES, I THINK SO!!!!

ME: GO CLEAN YOUR BUTT AND CHANGE YOUR UNDERWEAR!!!!!

MISS O: WHERE SHOULD I PUT THE UNDERWEAR?

ME: JUST THROW IT IN THE TUB AND I'LL GET IT LATER!!!

MISS O: THE TUB?!

ME: YES! THE TUB!!!

MISS O: OKAY!!!!!

Apparently, she sharted and was wondering what to do with her underwear.

After my meeting ended, I ran upstairs to ask her what the shit was going on. She told me that as she was reaching up to a high shelf to retrieve some Polly Pocket clothes, she did "three farts that felt kinda wet." She then told me that she "got a little shart on her finger" when she checked to see if, indeed, 'twas a shart.

I asked her if she washed her hands. She said "yes." I asked her if she washed her hands REALLY well. She said, "yes." I asked if she used soap. She said, "duh!" Then I told her not to fart for the rest of the day. She said, "I'll try."

Please don't let tomorrow be a snow day.