The other day, Mariella and I were sitting at the kitchen table. She was making her usual attempt at a Guinness world record for the slowest eater and I was not so patiently sitting there staring at her. Anxious, I folded my arms on the table and sank into them with a big sigh. When I did this, my bare arm rubbed against the table and made an unflattering noise. Mariella said to me with a mouthful, "You fahted?"
No, I did not fart, Mariella. It was my arm on the table."
You fahted?" she asked again, interrupting my explanation.
"No, honey, I did not fart."
"You fahted?" she asked again, this time her mouth clear of food and her spoon pointing at my face.
"No," I said getting annoyed. "I did not fart."
"Mommy, you fahted?"
"No."
"You fahted?"
"Nope."
"You fahted?"
"Mariella. I did not fart. When I do, I will let you know. Okay?"
She sat quiet for a minute, looking down at her bowl. She moved some food around with her spoon as if she was contemplating. Then she spoke very decisively.
"You fahted."
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