Bring the Powder

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Last week, I called my mom to talk to her about her latest blog post, and my dad answered the phone.

We chatted a bit, and then he said, “Well, I’m going to pass you on to mom. I need to get back to writing my blog posts for when I take over your blog next week.”

That was pretty funny for my dad.

He’s more of the silent type – which fits pretty well with my mom’s personality.

And mine…

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While I’m not turning the blog over to him this week, I would like to share a little story about him.

When I was growing up, my dad had gas.

Bad gas.

My mom still tells the story of me running errands with my dad and coming into the house sobbing.

My Mom: Anna, what’s wrong?

Me: SOB, It’s my doll. We have to throw her away. SOB

My Mom: But why? What happened?

Me: She just smells so bad!

At which point my mom looked up to see my dad laughing so hard he had tears streaming down his face.

Apparently the horror of being buckled into a car with the windows rolled up while my gassy dad farted his way around town was scarring enough for me to have completely blocked out the memory of that entire incident.

But I’ll never forget our nightly ritual.

Each night, my brother and I would go to bed, and dad would come upstairs to tuck us in.

He would read us books, tell us we were special – and fart.

They were silent, but oh, so deadly.

We’d scream and cry and try to hide under the covers, and my dad would laugh and fart and laugh and fart and laugh and fart.

The more we cried, the more he laughed.

And the more he laughed, the more he’d fart.

Inevitably, we would have to call for my mom to Bring the Powder.

She’d run upstairs and shoo my dad out of our rooms. And then proceed to sprinkle baby powder around until everyone could breathe again.

True story.

Luckily, my dad doesn’t smell anymore. But I always keep a can of baby powder handy during his visits – just in case!


  1. Messes and Miracles

    July 27, 2009 at 8:37 pm


  2. Lisa R. Petty

    March 10, 2014 at 9:42 am

    My dog has that issue, and she takes pills for it. Perhaps you should keep some enzymes and probiotics around just in case. 🙂

  3. HouseTalkN

    March 10, 2014 at 9:43 am

    I love your family. That is all. Carry on.

  4. Vanessa

    March 10, 2014 at 10:52 am

    This was my whole childhood growing up, from both parents, but there was no baby powder…

  5. Nora

    March 10, 2014 at 4:04 pm

    “Pull my finger!”

  6. Kathryn

    March 10, 2014 at 10:36 pm

    I have tears reading this. So funny. I was just beginning to wonder if you have any good stories about your dad.
    Questions: Are you at least your dad’s favorite child?

  7. Beth Markley (Manic Mom)

    March 10, 2014 at 10:45 pm

    bloggers get the BEST revenge. Hahaha!

  8. Tasha

    March 10, 2014 at 11:08 pm

    Omg. Tears!

  9. jhanis

    March 11, 2014 at 2:16 am

    I can see my kids writing something like this in the future complaining about their father’s gas! LOL

  10. Suzanne Lucas

    March 11, 2014 at 5:14 pm

    Oh my Lord, I hope he didn’t do that in bed. Your mom could have been asphyxiated.

    Interestingly enough, the tables are turned in my house. The offender is my daughter, who has caught me more than once with an unexpected, yet nauseating, fart. Over time, she started giving us warnings though by yelling “Red Alert” just before she did so. At least we had a fraction of a second to hide.

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