My brother came to visit for Turkey Time. We fell back into the brother-sister routine, flinging boogers at each other, dredging up hurtful memories from childhood and cloaking it in banter — you know, normal sibling stuff.
WELL, after a day of cooking and eating, after alllll the dishes were put away and we were all comatose on the couch, I let rip a deep little well-deserved air-bass farticle.
David: That’s disgusting.
Hana: David! Don’t teach Patrick bad habits!
David: What? You’re the one who farted!
Hana: I know, but Patrick doesn’t think they’re “disgusting” yet.
David: You’re out of your mind.
A few days later, after David left and I was missing my baby brother, I farted again. Unbeknownst to me, Patrick was in the room.
Patrick: That’s disgusting.
I looked over at him and he had the biggest, brightest smile on his face, and I’m pretty sure what he meant was “I love you.”