I have really missed my blog lately. I have been holding off until I get other stuff done. I have lots of cute stuff to put up, I swear. But in the meantime, I digress.

At one point tonight at the pool, the boys were being “Sharks.”  Although for preschoolers who still have wonderful vestiges of toddler-esque pronunciations, it was arguable that they were, in fact, being, “Sharts.”

And for anyone who doesn’t know what that is, let’s just say it’s a pretty important thing to know. To know not to do, in fact. For that matter, the last time I checked, there is but one singular Credo in my family (more of a guideline really), and this is very personal and I don’t even really have my husband’s permission to share it, but, here goes.  If you can remember nothing else, remember this; FART DON’T SHART.

And if you still don’t know what it is, pemit me to save you a Google search.

This defines it pretty well:

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And in case there’s any remaining lack of clarity, I hope you enjoy this video as much as I do (and that the humour likewise for you outweighs any offense):

Maybe I’m just not feeling that mature today.

Look, the point is: Beware of pool sharts!