(Image from here.)
The other day, I talked about our excursion to the toy store.
And some of you graciously played along, guessing which person bought which toy.
I bought the Hanukkah duck.
Not because it was flipping people off, as suggested by Sulya. (Although that didn’t hurt.) No, I bought it because of my deep and abiding love of all things Jewish. I love a good klezmer band. I’m still waiting for someone to ask me to a seder. And the men…
(Kitty was not wrong, though. I did, indeed, throw it in the tub with the kids. I’m a giver.)
The trophy was for the boy.
As a type A personality, he enjoys signs of outside validation. And smart-assery. And things that are shiny.
But the one that NO ONE guessed?
The girl and her fart in a jar.
Last year, her brother got a jar of the stuff in his Christmas stocking. He finally figured out that this silly-putty type stuff made a fart noise when you inserted your fingers. He was mildly amused. But the girl was enthralled. She could sit there and make squishy, juicy fart sounds for, literally, an hour at a time. She wore the stuff out.
So when we went into this store, and there was one jar left, and for god’s sakes it was even pink, her favorite color in the whole world, well, that lump was coming home with us.
So now you know.