Our Salsa Recipe…For Disaster

“Oh. My. God!” said Tracey suddenly. She cupped her mouth and a horrid sort of look appeared on her face.

We were driving around town looking at Christmas lights and basically trying to convince the kids they were tired. This part of the plan would have gone a lot better if the good people with some of the more elaborate displays didn’t keep generously tossing candy canes through our car windows.

“What?” I asked my wife. Had she just remembered she’d left the iron on? Or the stove? Where we supposed to be somewhere? Did she spot a couple performing lewd acts through a passing window? Should I turn the car around and see if they’re still at it?

“Who,” she asked in a loud, strained sort of tone, “farted?”

Ahh.

I thought I’d gotten away with it.

Actually, truth be told even I was thinking it was a bit ripe. Nice, obviously, but it certainly had legs.

“That was me,” I fessed up. “Sorry. Must be the salsa dip we had this arvo.”

But at the same time some other people in the car found their voices.

“It’s mine!” Master9 announced proudly from the back of the car.

“I did it, Mum,” said an equally chuffed Miss11 behind me.

This two second outpouring of loud confessions was followed by an equally silent couple of moments while everyone considered this.

“Open the windows!” yelled Master9 and Miss11, even as Tracey and I hit the buttons to lower ours.

And we drove along for a minute or so with our heads hanging as far out the windows as our seat belts would allow us occasionally making retching sounds.

“Banning…gak…salsa…gawk…in house,” gasped Tracey.

I don’t think there’s going to be any arguments about that.

At least, not until we clear the air.

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“Raising a family on little more than laughs”