Imagine with me, if you will, a mother and her sweet, pre-school age son. They are walking hand in hand through a massive furniture store, looking for the perfect couch. They have been playing a spirited game of 'I Spy' and the little boy is surprisingly compliant, considering that couch shopping is quite possibly the thing he hates most in the world.
For some reason, known only to other 4-year-old children, the boy decides that dragging his rubber-toed shoes on the laminate floor is a fun thing to do. It causes strange vibrations in his toes and makes a rather silly sound, not unlike that of a distasteful bodily function.
Suddenly, the little boy decides this is not entertaining enough and says, in a voice audible across the universe,
"MOMMY, WHY ARE YOU FARTING?"
The horrified mother hisses, "That sound is your shoes, silly!"
"NO, YOU ARE FARTING!"
The little boy dissolves into hysterical giggles as the mother looks around for a couch big enough to hide behind forever. The poor, poor mother.
There is not a sink hole on this planet big enough to save one from that situation, were it to actually happen.
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