"IT WAS YOU!!"

Dylan has major gas today. I think he might be a little bit sick, because his head feels warmer than usual, his appetite is strangely small, and he's been gulping water at a shocking pace.

His farts smell like rotten eggs. Which, I know that's what farts are supposed to smell like. Everyone says that farts smell like eggs, eggs smell like farts...I used to make egg salad in Kingston while Gloria was in class and when she got back she'd know I had been making egg salad because it smelled like I had held a large choir practice in the apartment but instead of practising songs, everyone had farted and left. But Dylan's farts today really DID smell like rotten eggs, like I detected distinct notes of poached egg white. And he hadn't eaten any poached egg white at all, in fact, he had spat out all of his delicious kale, onion, and cherry tomato omelette which I ended up eating, including the ABC pieces he spat out.

Sidebar: I have never eaten so much ABC food as I have in the past 4 or 5 months since Dylan started solids. I'm like a dog. A really flabby, non-hairy dog with stretchmarks.

He farted all throughout the day, the same flavour each time. Late in the afternoon, I heaved him into my arms and went down to the parking garage to get something from the car. And he FARTED IN THE ELEVATOR. It was completely gross. I was so scared someone would be waiting for the elevator down in P2 and think that I had made that smell. Do I blame the baby? It seemed not only cruel, but also not very believable. If it were me, I would not believe that a small innocent baby would be able to make a smell so potent. I don't think I've smelled anything like that since my first trimester when my poo was backed up and came out extra fermented.

Luckily, there was no one down there, and we went to the car and got what we needed. Dylan thought that being taken down to the cold parking garage in his pyjamas was a hoot. He started giggling once we were in the parking area and was happily pointing at everything. Totally cute.

Of course, we were lucky to get the SAME ELEVATOR going back up. And when I walked inside, the fart was STILL THERE. So not only was Dylan's fart thick and potent, it had longevity. It smelled as though the atmosphere in the elevator were a vacuum and the fart had been perfectly preserved.

But here's the thing: I don't think Dylan knows he's the one making these farts. A little later, I was feeding him his dinner. We were sitting there at the dining room table, and he was feeding himself pieces of curry tofu and he let one rip. It burst out in a thick cloud of stench.

I turned to give him a strained look. And found that he was giving me a strained look. That's right, he was looking at me as though I had just farted. And then he lifted his little arm and pointed a finger at me. I started shaking my head vehemently, "NO baby, NO! It was you! IT WAS YOU!!!" And he started shaking his head, and continued to point!

So either my 10-month-old baby can't tell when he's farting or he knows how to fart and then blame it on his mother. I really hope he doesn't do this in public.