"I didn't get that from me."

All families have their shared inside jokes.   In a houseful of boys, a lot of shared inside jokes in my house involve gas.  Burping and farting, whether pretend or all too real, are the subjects of many a laugh.

Ryan is on to this, and being the littlest, hasn't quite figured out what is funny for family might not be so funny out in public.  

We were in Winslow over the weekend, for my niece's birthday.  She's two.  Adorable.  There's nothing like a chubby two year old, standing on the ice chest in her bathing suit, precariously perched and leaning forward to the table, reaching for her birthday cake.  I caught her just in time...

On Sunday, we took the kids to the creek.  We were sitting in one of the picnic tables, eating lunch, when I hear someone let it rip across the table from me.

Ryan and my nephew are sitting there.  And Ryan, without missing a beat, without saying a word, grins and jerks his thumb at my nephew.  It was funny.

His brothers have taught him well.  

But it's his father who is really in trouble. 

Because he's never around when 'funny at home' becomes 'embarrassing in public.'

Monday evening, I took the kids to a coworker's house.   We're friends, I've known her a long time, but she only recently began working with us again.  She's invited me over tons, but this is the first time I'd been able to make it.   She has horses, and lots of dogs, so the kids were excited to come.

We were standing outside, chatting, letting the dogs get used to all of us.  Ryan pipes up that he has to pee.  She lives in one of those spreads where it's desert all around the house, so we joked to him to pick a tree, any tree.

I didn't notice Ryan leave us.  I didn't notice Ryanuntil I looked up and saw his back to us, assuming the position. 

You know seven year olds.  They take you literally sometimes. 

My friend took it in stride.  "Well, that's what we told him to do."

I found it harder to take in stride what my boy did next, though. 

He came back up to us, and started heading for her front door, asking where the bathroom was...because "now, I need to ...."  and he very slightly squatted, placed both his hands out in front of him bent at his elbows but still at his sides, made a motion backwards with his hands, and said "huurrrrrnnnggggh."

Surely he's didn't just indicate...I stood there, incredulous, plotting my husband's death. 

He did it again, just to erase any doubt.

"Inside, to the right,"  my friend said.  She laughed.  I blushed.  I couldn't even explain, other than to stammer out:

"He gets that from his Dad."   

My fourth boy.