Aww, my sweet Heather.
She spent the weekend shoveling the driveway after Ohio got walloped with 14 inches of snow over the course of 2 days. This was one hell of a bad time for our brand new $600 snowblower to bite the dust (instead of biting the snow).
I thought her act of kindness deserved a treat. How better to celebrate my Blizzard-Savior than with a Blizzard?
Off we drove to good old Dairy Queen. Only native Ohioans feel that driving through 14 inches of snow to get ice cream is a practical idea.
BLIZZARDS AND BUTTS - PART ONE
We sit down at our little booth. Well, let me rephrase that. Heather slid into her seat. I wedged my big old derrière into my seat. Really, don't you think that the geniuses who designed the tables and attached chairs at Dairy Queen would consider that their clientele might need just a smidge more belly room between the table and the attached chair than you'd have at a salad bar?
Heather plops a spoonful of Banana Cream Pie-flavored ice cream into her mouth and a very pleased sound of happiness escaped...from her rump. Yep, she farted. That tooter was loud enough that the Amish kids on the other side of the room even turned to look. Well, admittedly, they might have turned to look our way because both Heather and I were holding our tummies and cackling like hyenas. It's true what they say, farts are fun. Especially when the fart emanates from someone else.
BLIZZARDS AND BUTTS - PART TWO
After howling with laughter, we left the restaurant and headed to the van. But, of course, when a silly teenager spies a 4-foot high mountain of snow, what else could she possibly do but climb it to become Queen of the Mountain (that's why it was at Dairy Queen, of course). Climb she did.
And then fall she did. Right onto her rump. Yet again, I practically peed myself laughing with my daughter after she did something unexpected with her tush.
Kids are fun.