And the next day…

­Dear tv’s Craig Ferguson,

This morning as I passed my son’s bedroom door, I could hear him say,
“Mom, I had the strangest but funny dream. I dreamed about a farting orchestra.

That symphony was a work of fart.”

What can this mean?

Sign me,

Worried Mom
PS  When I asked him, his reply was simply,
“The day after Chili Day is always farty.”

Next up?

Well if you need me and I’m not out mucking out the dog pens?

I’ll be in

The Garden Zen

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2 Comments

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2 responses to “And the next day…

  1. Update

    After a lot of discussion and a couple of Dr. Oz does Oprah Youtubes, here’s where we stand:

    My mother-in-law, after watching Dr. Oz on Oprah, thinks it’s my fault that I didn’t give him enough beano as a child.

    My mother’s not surprised. She didn’t thinks he inherited lactose intolerance from my ex. Which is more than the herpes she thought he’d give me.

    My husband on the other than thinks it’s great. He’s a musician and is currently recording farts for a Chili Symphony.

    I personally think that I gave him way to much corn when he was young.

    STay tuned.

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