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A recent exchange at our house during a lazy, playful afternoon:

Tater Tot: Pfffthhh! (fart)

The Mommy from across the room: “Tater Tot tooted! Oh my goodness! Did you toot?!”

Tater Tot: *Giggle, giggle* “Mommy tooted!” (Runs to The Mommy and collapses in a heap on the floor giggling)

The Mommy: “No you don’t! Don’t you blame your toots on The Mommy!”

Tater Tot: *Hee, hee* “Mommy tooted!”

The Mommy: “Did you learn that from The Daddy? Are you going to blame it on The Dog too?”

Tater Tot: “Doggie tooted!”

The Mommy: “Oh no! That wasn’t The Doggie, that was Tater Tot. And it was a stinky one! Peeeeezhyewwwww!”

Tater Tot: *Giggle, giggle. Squirm, squirm*

Farts are almost always funny at our house. Unless they are big man-sized ones that drive you out of the room. The Tot isn’t big enough or stinky enough for that yet. Thank God. In the mean time, it’s still cute. For now.