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The shop is packed, but irritatingly quiet….and everyone is looking at me. EVERYONE.
I’m not there to do a talk or a signing: I’m not making any sort of public appearance. If I was, the shop would be half as busy and the people would just be talking to each other.
No….the reason everyone is looking at me and on the split-second edge of explosivelaughter is because my five year old son, grasping my hand and glaring up at me, has just shouted:
“Daddy, you only coughed that loud because you just farted – and I heard it anyway. I think you keep forgetting that I’m down here.”
He’s holding his nose. He’s actually HOLDING his nose.
The shop explodes with laughter. I laugh, too: I’m totally at his mercy and I have absolutely no choice….
…but he’s not getting that game I promised him.
It’s too violent.
It ruins his concentration.
It’s bad for his development…
….and, besides, he did that on PURPOSE.
I know he’s five, but he waited until the shop was quiet. It was just a coincidence that I farted at the right moment…
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