What do you think this post is going to be about? Teaching your kids the danger of talking to strangers? Looking both ways before you cross the street? Not eating foods after the expiration date? Nope. It’s about farting. That’s right. Farting. More significantly, it is  about family bonding and is the first in a series of posts, albeit silly, that will fall under the category: The Ties That Bond a Family.

Before I  explain how  farting brings families together, let me first take a few steps back in history to give you some  background information. As many of my readers already know, we Shwanda’s used to have a tent trailer that we just sold, which was called The Palomino Stallion. When I was a kid we went camping  in our tent trailer, The Nimrod Camelot Supreme. My parents found a plaque in a camp store (along with some plastic pink flamingos) that hung in our trailer for years. It said: “The family that sleeps together, sweats together.” That was true, especially in the summer Florida heat. If the Shwanda’s had a similar plaque it would read: ” The family that sleeps together, farts together.”

Four years ago, before Paul and I were married, we decided to take a camping trip together to Anchor Bay in Mendocino County. I had a lot of trepidation about going.  My girls flat out did not want to go and were giving me a really hard time about it. They were 9 and 12 at the time, an age where boys completely grossed them out by doing things like drinking directly out of the milk carton, (ich) belching (gross) and forgetting to wear deodorant (eeeew).  There was also a high degree of testosterone-induced wrestling and needling (sigh). And farting (peeuw). What to do.  At first I bailed and said I couldn’t go. Then I changed my mind, put on my game face and informed my kids, “We’re going camping.” And we ended up having a great time. To read more about it, click here.

Now to get to the farting part. It was a long car ride up to the campground. At one point, somebody, I don’t remember who, but it must have been one of Paul’s kids, let one rip and immediately called out, “Safety!” Safety? What does that mean? You see, as I learned, if you call “Safety” after you fart, that saves you from anyone decking you, punching you, complaining to you or in any way punishing you for farting. Now we all know kids have a heightened appreciation for scatological humor, so the ritual game that followed broke the ice, put the kids at ease and gave them something else to think about besides not really wanting to go on the trip in the first place.

But there is more to this story than just the silly game. You have to feel pretty comfortable with someone to be able to fart in front of them. When you first meet someone, you want them to see you at your best and we are hesitant to destroy that illusion. There was even an episode about it on Sex and The City where Carrie accidentally farts in front of Big and she’s mortified. She’s worried he’s going to dump her. Big thinks it’s funny and sneaks a Whoopee cushion onto her seat at dinner. In the end, their being able to joke about it brought them closer. So flatulence in this context can be a very good thing. It is a tie that binds.

The last morning of our first camping trip I stepped into the tent trailer to get something. No one was in there except Eva, who was still asleep. Even though she was  bundled up in her sleeping bag , I could not miss the sound of that  faint, audible puff of wind  release from her body. Unaware that she was alone in the camper and half asleep, she mumbled, “Safety.” I smiled. I knew then that I had made the right decision to go to on the trip. And I owe it all to farting.