Like any mother, I've been working on manners. My biggest impetus is not the children, necessarily. Oh no. It's Jeremy. He doesn't understand the need for good manners when it comes to body functions operating normally causing loud noises to occur in public venues. Because he thinks it's hilarious, he never corrects the children.
"You can't do that," I told him once.
"What?" he said, laughing.
"That. You cannot laugh when they pass gas or burp. They need to say 'excuse me.' It's your job to remind them to excuse themselves, too, you know. When it's just me correcting them, they never learn." For years, I've been working on him but to no avail.
Last night, we were having dinner, when we heard a delicate "put put put put put put put" noise. Jeremy, bless him, did try. Holding back the laughter that wanted to come out, he said, "Hannah Noel what do you say?"
Hannah looked at her father's strained expression, and knowing he was on the edge said, "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."
Jeremy howled, laughing so hard, his eyes started to water. "I tried," he said shaking his head back and forth. "I really really tried."
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