Every time you fart, the world ends.
We know the Apoopcalypse is on its way because you’ll start karate kicking the air, flail your arms wildly in all directions, and grunt like a pig. A second later, there will be a loud, dry pop emanating from your butt. This is followed by a brief gasp of air, a moment of silence, and then a sleep-shattering wail.
You have farted, Blue. And the whole neighborhood knows it.
You do not like to fart. Ironic, I know, considering that by the time you read this it will be one of your favorite things in the world to do. But as a baby, you hate it. At first, we were very perplexed about this. It’s a different cry than when you poop or pee. Those are your standard whiny “I’m a baby change me” cries. When you fart, your eyes bulge out in pure terror and your cry becomes the “OMGWTF just happened” cry.
Then, we flipped our understanding of what exactly you are right now, Blue, and this has made all the difference in the world. It’s very simple, actually. The reason why you don’t like farting is obvious.
You’re not human yet.
You are, in fact, an alien. An intra-terrestrial. Brought to this planet inside a warm, dark pod filled with preservative fluid that insulated and protected your growing organs and skin. Inside this pod, you didn’t have to breath, all your food and nutrients were fed to you through a hose connected directly to your stomach, and nothing ever left your body. Life was good. In your pod, you were perfectly content, unknowingly waiting out the days, traveling across space and time until you arrived on planet Earth and into our arms.
Upon arrival, everything changed for you. Harsh light, unfiltered by belly fat, poured into your eyes. Away from the warm confines of your pod, your skin suddenly learned the meaning of cold. Your arms and legs suddenly had somewhere to be other than right next to you. Worse, that hose, the one that gave you everything you ever wanted, was suddenly taken from you. In its place, you were given two bumbling large animals that stuck things in your mouth instead of your belly. Idiots.
With the tube gone and the idiots in its place, you had to improvise. You started sucking in what you needed through your mouth. The liquid stuff you put in your belly. The empty stuff, you put in your lungs. Sometimes, though, the empty stuff made its way into your belly, which scared you. This caused you to send out emergency beacons to the idiots, who didn’t know what exactly to do because they didn’t speak your language. In their ineptness, they put more empty stuff in your belly, which you eventually had to expel on your own.
This is the birth of a fart, Blue, and for a being who has never had the experience of having something enter their body, to have it explode violently out the other end is very disconcerting. Every time it happens, a little piece of your old life in the pod leaves you, gone forever.
Eventually, you’ll get the hang of it. We will, too. In fact, we already are. Soothing you is essentially reminding you of your pod. Mostly this takes the form of wrapping you up and holding you close. Other times, it involves holding you while sitting on a bouncy ball and bouncing as high as possible, simulating your ten-month zero-g ride to this planet.
Don’t worry. You’ll be completely human soon. Then a fart is not the end of a world. It’s just a part of a new one.