Sunday is Father’s Day and so many of us are blessed to be able to tell stories about our dads and even better stories about our husbands becoming a dad. Men bring a different perspective to the table – so to speak. For instance, one hot, hot, Texas summer we were gathered around the kitchen table eating lunch. At that time we had two little girls and three young boys. Our air conditioner was out so we had the doors and windows thrown open hoping to catch a breeze. With the blessing of their dad, all the guys had their shirts off at the table. The girls had on brightly colored tank tops.
We floated a watermelon in the pool all morning. The kids ran back and forth adding ice from the ice maker to the pool to help cool the melon. Most of the ice did not make it to the pool but the drips down the bellies created giggles and kept the tempers at bay. Eventually, the melon, sandwiches, and drinks were ready. All were called to the table. We said the prayer and lunch commenced.
I hopped up to get more ice tea when I heard dad say to the kids, “Hey, do you guys know how to fart in your armpit?”
“Nooooooo,” was the instant scream. “Show us daddy!”
I turned towards dad and gave him the look.
He carried on. “Girls, take your shirts off. You can’t properly do this with shirts on.”
They screamed and threw their shirts across the room. I stirred some sugar into the tea and headed back to the table.
“Ok. Cup your hands like this and lift your arm.”
He certainly had the attention of all five kids. The cupped their hands and worked their skinny little arms up and down several times. Finally a little squirt of a noise came out. All screamed in delight.
Dad couldn’t just stop there. “Here, do it like this,” he instructed and let out a huge farting noise under his arm. Pandemonium struck. Arms flapped like chicken wings. The sweaty armpits were a major factor in the noise production.
I spooned more melon on my plate and looked at my husband. He was six years old again, gleefully creating havoc at the dinner table. Tears were streaming down his face as he tried to outdo his kids.
Needless to say, the “armpit” lunch was a great success or so we thought at the time.
On Monday our first-grader came out of the school building with down-cast eyes and a pink note in his hand.
“Yikes!” I thought.
He scuffed his way to the car and didn’t even fight for a seat. He handed me the note as he climbed in the car.
I slowly read the note, rolled my eyes, and gave him a glare. He stared out the window with his little lip trembling.
I assured him that he would not be the one in trouble.
At supper I handed the note to good ole dad. To give him credit he tried not to laugh out loud, but he couldn’t hold it in.
The note read:
Office Referral: Making gross and disturbing noises with his armpit.
To this day all of our children have the talent to make gross and disturbing noises with their armpits – Thanks to their DAD!
Happy Father’s Day to all dads.