Warning: I'm going to be dropping an "F-bomb" in this column, and I also need to use the "B word." Unpleasant to many, I know, but necessary to convey my confusion.
Why are children so obsessed with farting and burping? What makes them roar with laughter when someone "lets one rip?" Are the sounds really that hilarious?
Obviously, the answer is yes, and not just to our kids. Bodily function humor has been around for centuries. The entertainment industry has earned millions exploiting the topic. Mel Brooks' masterpiece "Blazing Saddles" wouldn't be as memorable without the baked beans campfire scene. And whoever invented the Whoopee Cushion was a genius. A little demented and obviously had too much time on their hands, but genius nonetheless.
Some countries embrace body noise. Asian countries supposedly consider belching a sign of contentment, a unique way of saying "my compliments to the chef." Having never visited Asia, I don't know if this is true or not. But my son is hooked on the idea. Last week he said he wants to live overseas, and suddenly has a burning desire to learn Chinese.
Americans are in a quandary about such functions. Our culture deems any noise expelled from either end as inappropriate at best, down right appalling at worst. But thanks to the comedians of the world, some can't help but snicker. The quandary gets passed from one generation to another. My mother rolling her eyes when my dad suggested a game of Pull My Finger. Grandmothers giving demur looks when ducks quacked beneath their chairs.
What parent isn't focused on teaching their kids politeness? The importance of maintaining eye contact, saying hello and remembering your pleases and thank yous are all mandatory. But the hypocrisy regarding bodily functions starts early. Admit it — you chuckled the first time your newborn tooted so loud it was heard across the room. And didn't you cover the smile tugging at your mouth when your toddler let out a burp that rivaled an earthquake? I sure did!
And I still do. When my petite daughter lets out a duck call from beneath her frilly princess dress, I can't help but laugh. My son's interest in making arm pit noises is getting old, but it made me giggle the first time he proudly showed off his new talent. And laughter is contagious.
The quandary continues and I have no solution. Except to keep reminding them about the phrase "excuse me," while hiding a smile. And consider serving less broccoli.
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