For Him and Her

Like a toy that's been overshadowed by its cardboard box, Charlotte's next favorite item is unpredictable. One day she's inseparable from her sock giraffe; the next you can't pry a plastic mixing cup from her grasp. I don't even know where she found it, but last November Char was carting around a perfume ad. It's about five inches square and wrinkled from her clench:

On a Sunday I found it on the floor near the leg of our dining table, and during lunch/ napping time I caught myself contemplating its message. Obviously Gucci is selling the implication that if you wear their scent you'll be able to get close to someone attractive. But what about the titles on the respective bottles? If you are a guy and you are successful, then it's because you are "intense". If you are a woman and you are successful, then it's because you're "guilty". That's hardly fair.

I was pointing out this mixed message to show Daphne how sensitive I am to sexism, but then I lost my direction and made a joke instead of a point.

"... and what does it mean to smell guilty anyway? The only time I smell guilty is when I fart."

Caught off guard, Daphne laughs and quickly adds, "But I'll tell you what. When you smell guilty it sure is intense!"

Laughing at her own joke almost keeps Daphne from getting out the last word, and I throw her a high-five across the table in appreciation. Because we're both exhausted and punchy, laughter bubbles to the surface throughout the rest of lunch. Besides, fart jokes are always funny.

Later, when Daphne has Charlotte on the changing table, I peer over Daph's shoulder and pinch my face together. "Ooooo, bad news. Someone smells guilty."

Note to self: laughing at toddler girls while they're on the changing table hurts their feelings. I guess not everyone enjoys fart jokes.