Duck and cover

This morning I heard California is prepping their school age kids for an earthquake drill. They all have to DROP TO THE GROUND! at some certain time. Jesus, you guys, how scary would that be?

Immediately I was brought back to my school age days of tornado drills: Each class of obnoxious kids lined up along the walls and lockers down meandering hallways, crunched up like a ball. This was still an opportunity for prime socializing, assuming you got to sit next to a friend.

While the teachers were doing their very best to silence the mass of giggling, snorting, shouting kids, hoping to God the impending natural disaster (simulation) would pass, a fart rings out with that perfect gas-on-linoleum vibrato. And everyone bursts into uncontrollable laughter.

I swear it wasn't me.

Happiness is...

...being three-years-old and enjoying the endless comedic affect of a Whoopee Cushion.

Egan will walk around the house, puffing his slobbery breath into said cushion, then squeeze out the air close to your unsuspecting bum saying, "Mom, you have gas."

His own greatest audience, he laughs hysterically as he continues the process only to sit on the cushion himself in the middle of the kitchen floor, stating through belly-laughing hilarity, "I have gas."