All things that spring to mind when I think of a nice dinner.
Except dinner at my house. We don't really have nice dinners.
We have more "can-we-make-it-through-without-being-completely-horrifying-in-our-lack-of-good-manners" dinners.
Tonight was no exception.
Midway through a meal of rotisserie chicken, warm buttered french bread and apple slices, Addison, the 3 year old, let loose with a man sized belch which he followed up immediately by a distinctly loud passing of gas.
"For goodness sakes! Say excuse me!" (Me)
"For which one? I burped AND did gas." (Addison)
"For BOTH! You say excuse me FOR BOTH!" (Me)
"But I'm eating bread now." (Addison)
As if the eating of bread alone pardons him for his table indiscretions.
"Stop eating your bread and say 'excuse me'. You are supposed to say it immediately after it happens." (Me)
Whereupon, Will passes gas and immediately says, "Excuse me."
"Like that, Addie! Just like Will had gas and said excuse me right after." (Me)
"Excuse me." (Addison) 4 minutes after the fact.
"Oh, good grief." (Me, not Charlie Brown)
I was feeling sort of sick and a bit sorry for myself at this point since I actually had another dinner table gas incident to use as a teachable moment for Addison.
Welcome to dinner at the Aughtmons. Gas mask optional.