Momservation: Only with kids and dads is a good fart a crowd pleaser.

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So there we were, sitting having a nice family dinner and conversation like we do every night there’s not soccer/basketball/baseball/softball (I guess this would make it a Thursday or Sunday).

Suddenly, there’s the distinctive muffled rumble and scent of somebody who just ripped one.

Followed by laughter.

From Daddy.

Which then of course gets the culprit and her approving brother rolling.

Trying to set a better example and appropriate table manners I ask toward the offender - who instead of blushing with embarrassment is now high-fiving her dad, “What do you say?”

In response, rather than an “excuse me” her brother interjects, “Nice one!”

More out of control laughter. My daughter goes for an opportunity to garner more laughs by pretending to choke on her milk in mirth, spraying it all over her unfinished plate.

Before I can admonish her, a louder chair muffled, “rrrrrrnnnt” comes underneath the table from her.

The sound of pure joy breaks out around the table. “Dude, you better check your shorts on that one!” says Daddy nearly in tears. My son, beaming with pride, falls out of his chair in hilarity onto the floor.

While down there he gasps out between guffaws, “Aww, man, I think the dog farted too!”

This time, Whitney really did choke on her milk at this new assault on her funny bone. Everyone’s gasp-for-breath laughing except me, but I can fill the corners of my mouth twitching as I resist the contagious amusement not wanting to cave to such poor manners.

Now of course, the king of farts can’t resist an opportunity to show his loyal subjects why he is the ruler of the land. My husband, at the dinner table, dramatically shifts his weight and lifting his left butt-cheek from the chair pollutes our ears and noses with the Hiroshima of fart bombs.

The kids explode with laughter. Hubby looks across the table at me, grinning from ear to ear, but with the look of a child who knows they’re about to get in trouble.

Only now does it occur to my family of dinner table farters that they may have crossed over the lines of decency. The kids apprehensively turn toward me, trying to reel themselves in by smothering giggles.

Looking at each person, letting the moment of reckoning settle over them I finally say,

“Daddy’s got nothing on me. When you come snuggle with Mommy tonight right before bed, I’m gonna hot-box you all like you wouldn’t believe.”

And to punctuate my point I ripped off my own fart and joined the laughter.

*If that hasn’t grossed you out enough and made you not want to join the Wheeler’s for dinner, then you obviously haven’t read Family Ear Wax Night…