Aiden has reached the age at which he delights in the word “fart.” I remember boys being like that when I was young, playing pull-my-finger in the bus. Max does whatever his brother does, so our day is full of conversations like this:
me: What did you do in school today?
A: Fart. [dissolves into giggles]
me: What’s the name of the girl you sit with? [in Korea, kids are paired with a partner (짝) in school, usually of the opposite sex.]
A: Her name is “Fart.” [more giggling. very pleased with himself]
Max: [singing] Do you know the farting man, the farting man, the farting man? Do you know the farting man who lives on drury lane?
I give up. Right now I’d settle for him recognizing that at certain times the fart talk is not appropriate. Like in front of guests, or to his grandparents. But he’s so taken by the word that he loses sight of everything else in his pleasure of being provocative. Choose your battles, right?
Max is pretty much toilet trained now. He hasn’t had an accident in a while, though he still wears a diaper to sleep. This has something to do with the use of M&Ms as bribery -- I mean reward -- and a lot to do with the persistence of his teachers at school. I can’t say enough about how much I love the school he goes to, FYKO. It is a bilingual school, a bit pricey, but I get a discount for teaching there and it is really worth every penny. I can’t imagine teachers in the U.S. teaching kids to potty train the way they have here, dealing with all the messy accidents (I used to have to send him to school with a bag full of extra clothes, and he’d still come back home wearing someone else’s pink socks.