I think I just farted



In our hanboks.

H was clearly loving it.

Again with the excitement.

Those are tears of pure joy.

Straight out of a korean history book.

Prince of his throne.

He picked the ball, naturally.



Cake - before.

Cake - after.

So now onto the story behind this post's title. Party had ended & everyone had gone home. Matt's assignment was to clean up while I gave H a bath. It felt a little chilly for H to be nakey so I asked my boo to bring me the space heater (the one I've had since college at the Stanford estate). As I was lathering up my little nude birthday boy I couldn't help but notice the foulest smell wafting around my nostrils.

Me: What is that smell?

Matt: What smell?

Me: You don't smell that? It smells like rotten eggs. Maybe there was some hair stuck in the heater? Ugh, burnt hair shouldn't smell like that.

Matt: Oh. I think I farted?

Me: You think?

Matt: I didn't feel anything come out but I'm pretty sure I did.

I know how to pick 'em.