“Girls, I have a little secret to share.”
They were nine and seven, and it was time for a real conversation.
“You have full permission to fart. You can and should let it go, but please be kind to those around you and walk away. You have the right to be human and not be ashamed of it.”
They giggled like the cute little girls that they were. I repeated myself to ensure that it was clear.
“You can fart! Got it?”
“Got it, daddy.”
I understand that women are supposed to be classy. But last time I checked, they were human beings with bodies that sometimes have to pass gas.
Classy doesn’t mean you don’t get gassy.
I’ve dated women that refused to let gas pass even though they were clearly hurting from the internal pressure.
A small “toot” did sneak through a few times while on dates. The fear and shame they felt were unreal. One of them cried in front of me from embarrassment. I couldn’t say anything to console her.
It broke my heart.
This was a pattern, and I knew I had to address it with my daughters. I put it on my schedule for the next time they came home.
Not long after our conversation, my baby girl looked at me and told me she farted.
We made eye contact. Then we both burst out laughing.
“Great. But please remember to step away next time. WOW!”
My tiny humans clearly got the message loud and clear.