Continued from yesterday.

It was a few days after getting the whoopie cushion before I could give it the first play. The boys were playing in the den, and Cowgrit was doing something on her computer at her desk in the den. I was in my office quietly opening the plastic package and blowing up the cushion.

I snuck the cushion into the den and placed it in our soft chair in the far corner. I used a thin pillow to conceal the trap. It wasn’t a good set up, but if I could keep Cowgrit misdirected, I might could pull it off.

I went to Cowgrit and whispered I needed to talk to her for a moment. I pulled her over to the other side of the den, past the boys playing on the floor, and in front of the loaded chair. I made sure her back was to the trap, and I urged her to sit down.

She immediately suspected I was up to something sinister. She smiled suspiciously at me, and tried to get away. I grabbed her, laughing, and dropped her down on the soft chair.

Nothing. “Dagnabbit!” I said.

“What in the world,” she laughed. She stood up, turned and looked under the thin pillow. “Oh geez,” she said. I let her walk away, then.

The cushion was flat, but it must have let all the air go slowly from the weight of the pillow on top of it. I took the cushion out of the room and blew it back up. The boys were oblivious to everything but their toys. Cowgrit had gone to the kitchen to make sure she was away from her insane husband.

I set the cushion back down in the chair, but there was no good way to conceal it. I’d never trick one of the boys to sit on it. So I’d have to set it off myself. I sat down.

The cushion gave a beautiful explosion.

Both boys stopped their play and looked at me. Calfgrit7 laughed, “Daddy farted!” Then Calfgrit4 laughed, too.

I sat in the chair for a minute, laughing at myself. When the boys went back to playing, I reset the cushion. I sat down on it again, and again the room was filled with a wonderful explosion of sound.

Both Calves laughed again, but this time Calfgrit7 knew something had to be up with the whole thing. “How are you doing that?” he asked.

I stood up, and showed them both the whoopie cushion. “It’s a balloon,” said Calfgrit4.

I showed them how the cushion worked — I blew it up, placed it on the chair, and sat down again. Both boys shouted with laughter at the sound. CG7 actually fell to the floor laughing so hard, and CG4 copied him.

For the next hour, the two boys used the cushion on every chair in the house. CG7 would blow it up, and they’d take turns sitting on it. They “farted” on both den chairs, all three cushions of the sofa, the four chairs around the kitchen table, my and Cowgrit’s desk chairs, and several places just on the floor.

We tried to get Cowgrit to knowingly sit on the cushion, just one time, but she refused. She’s such a girl.

Bullgrit

A few days before Christmas, I was out with Cowgrit and Calfgrit4. (Calfgrit7 was with a friend.) Cowgrit wanted to stop by a dollar store for something — I don’t remember what, maybe to look for stocking stuffers? — so we three went in.

My job was mostly to just entertain CG4 while Cowgrit looked around. But I spied something I couldn’t pass up: a whoopie cushion. For only a buck, I had to get it.

I distracted CG4 for a moment, and I grabbed the package. I held it around my back so he couldn’t see it. Then when my real intended target came back to us, I had to be more subtle and clever with my concealment. But Cowgrit’s not easy to fool.

I pretended to buy some candy while she took our littlest boy out of the store. She had noticed I was hiding something, but she thought I had picked up something for the boys’ Christmas. If only I was that thoughtful.

Once outside the store, Cowgrit wanted to see what I had bought. I tried not showing it to her, but my secrecy just made her curiosity even stronger. “Why won’t you show me what you got them?” she whispered.

We got back to our van, and while I was making sure CG4 was buckled in, Cowgrit took a peek in the dollar store plastic bag sitting on my driver seat. I discovered her investigation when I opened my door. “Well,” I moaned, “I just lost my first surprise victim.”

Cowgrit gave me that look that asks, “How old are you?” Then she laughed.

To be continued…

Bullgrit

Just realized I missed writing a post for today. We’re in my hometown, visiting my mom (yesteday, we were with my dad). I don’t want to take away time from the family to write a full post, so, sorry, but this is all I’m doing for today.

Bullgrit

Christmas Eve

7:30 p.m.
The boys have had their baths, have cleaned up all their toys from the den and their bedroom. They’re now decorating sugar cookies for Santa’s snack — icing with a wide variety of sprinkles.

7:50 p.m.
Cookies are done, and some are on a platter next to the Christmas tree (we forgot the milk!). The boys brush their teeth and use the potty one last time before bed. They then ask for a few minutes of “playing” World of Warcraft.

WoW has seasonal stuff going on right now, so they get to see the orc versions of Santa Claus and his elves. We do a quest to get “Great Father Winter” some gingerbread cookies and milk. Then we ride around on a reindeer (instead of my orc’s normal wolf).

8:05 p.m.
We’ve herded the boys into bed, but they can’t settle down — especially Calfgrit4.

8:10 p.m.
Calfgrit4 is still talking out loud.

8:15 p.m.
Geez, CG4, get quiet.

8:20 p.m.
CG4 is sitting on the potty. I doubt he’ll actually do anything.

8:25 p.m.
Nope, he just sat and sang. He’s back in bed now.

8:35 p.m.
All is quiet in the boys’ bedroom.

9:00 p.m.
We think they’re both asleep. Santa can come any time now.

Bullgrit