Scene: The family relaxes in the living room after dinner. A gastrointestinal sonic boom disturbs the peace.

Nichole: Ew! We’re going to have to get rid of the futon.

Rockford: It’s a poot-on!

In related news …

Poppy seems to have inherited her father’s gaseous fortitude (fartitude, perhaps?). We’ve been trying to get her to say “pardon me” after she has an indiscretion. It isn’t working very well. Here’s a typical call and response after such an incident:

Nichole: What do we say?
Poppy: Toot!