Sometimes while we are eating we will play a game where someone starts a story and we each tell an addition of the story until we either run out of food or the character ends up dying. We try to always let the girls start the story because as soon as either Roman or Greggory share their part of the story the main character usually dies. And for no logical reason. Actually, most of the time the cause of death is from the character’s bowel movements or some gaseous explosion, aka, it farts to death.
So you can see why we like Brooklyn to start the story. We even give Holland a chance to add on, making up sentences from her burbles, trying desperately to drag the story on as long as possible until the inevitable death that awaits.
Yesterday, I was fed up with all the farts. A: we are eating. B: we are eating and C: we are at least trying to make this somewhat educational and so far it was back-firing. (haha) I told the boys that from now on farts and death were banished from our story game. They took it pretty well considering I just wiped out all of their material.
Brooklyn then started the story (I still didn’t completely trust the boys) about a rock named Fluffy. The plot grew and another character, Herman, a sting ray, was introduced. So far, so good. Roman’s turn. More plot. No farts. Great.
And then, I hear this:
Roman: ...then Fluffy dug and dug a big hole...
Gregg (muttering to himself): and then he farted (suppressed giggling)
Roman: ...and they found a key that unlocked the treasure...
Gregg (still thinking that no one can hear him): and then he showed his bum to people (more giggling)
Roman: ...and they rushed through the forest...
Gregg: and he farted! (more giggling)
At this point Roman hears Greggory and just bursts out laughing. And I can’t help it, I start laughing, too. Of course, this encourages Roman and he adjusts his thought mid-sentence and kills the character by, you guessed it, farting to death.
I don’t know if it’s the boys who will never learn. Or me.