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Fatherly Lessons
One day after school, my son, Noah, gleefully told
me he had a surprise to show me.
“Watch what I can do!” he giggled.
He lifted up his shirt and stuck his right hand
underneath his left armpit. He pumped his bent arm
up and down like a rail car, but nothing happened.
He was trying to make an armpit fart, of
course.
“Where did you learn that?” I
laughed.
“Sasha taught me, but when he does it, it
makes a, well, a sound.”
“He toots with his arm!” my daughter,
Clara, exploded. She then raised her shirt and
mimicked her brother, without any noise either.
“Here is why it is good that you have a
daddy that stays home,” I said and proceeded
to teach them the proper technique for making
armpit farts that actually make noise.
Even though I could teach them, I was a little
surprised to realize that I could no longer do it
myself. I wasn’t sure if there is a hand to
pit size ratio that changed as I got older or if
the hair that accompanied adolescence ruined the
vacuum necessary for the “pllllt”. I
bragged that when I was a kid, I could play songs
on my armpit, but because I couldn’t prove it,
I don’t think they believed me.
Delighted with their new skill, my two oldest
spent the afternoon perfecting it and,
consequently, teaching my two youngest. The twins,
both two years old, didn’t have the
coordination necessary to do anything but look
really cute. Anna loved her new game, but Natalie
tired of it quickly.
Then Mommy came home.
“Look what we can do!” the kids
squealed.
Noah, Clara, and Anna, ran up to their mother
with their hands in their shirts, pumping for all
they were worth. The delightful sounds of gas made
everyone—except their mother—fall down
laughing.
“Where did you learn that?” she asked,
with less of a laugh than I had.
“Daddy taught us!” they yelled.
To describe the look that followed is difficult.
It said so many things: “Very nice.”
“Who is the grown up here?” “And you
taught them this because?” and “Why did I
leave you at home again?”
My answer was short and sweet, “Noah
doesn’t have an older brother to teach him
these important things. It’s up to
me.”
I had an older brother who taught me these
important things, but I was the youngest so I have
had to wait for my own son to be able to pass on
the knowledge. I’ve been looking forward to it
for thirty years.
“What about the girls?”
“Collateral damage.”
Our only rule was no armpit farting at the
dinner table. Only Anna needed to be reminded
occasionally, but she still didn’t make any
noise so it wasn’t too disturbing to the
meal.
And to think, if Mommy had been home when they
got home from school, they might never have learned
this valuable talent. Makes you wonder why any
family would have it any other way.
©2009, Mark
Phillips
* * *
Women, it's true, make human beings, but
only men can make men. - Margaret Mead
Mark
Phillips is a Stay-At-Home-Dad and freelance
writer. Along with raising his four children, he is
developing a franchise called “The Vacuum IS a
Power Tool.” It is designed to help SAHDs
maintain that which makes us men, instead of hairy
Mom-substitutes. He earned a B.S. in
Communication/Theatre Arts and teaching
certificates in English, public speaking, and
psychology from Eastern Michigan University. After
six years as a high school English teacher and
Director of Dramatic Arts at Powers Catholic High
School in Flint, Michigan, he changed careers and
became a Stay-At-Home-Dad. www.TheVacuumIsAPowerTool.com
or E-Mail
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