One of N’s toys is a bug plushy cube with shapes on each side. When you turn it over or hit it, the thing sings a song about whatever shape is on top. Behind each shape are little surprises for the kids. The triangle unzips to reveal something, the rectangle is connected with velcro and has more rectangles behind it. You get the idea.

Behind the circle (which buttons closed) is a bee-shaped cushion. It’s tethered to the cube by a retracting cord. If you pull the bee out and let it go, it buzzes and vibrates as the cord pulls it back into the cube.

All in all, a pretty cool toy for a toddler (or pre-toddler) to have.

Yesterday morning, N and I were playing with the cube in his room. He loves being able to play one-on-one in his room, without having the distraction of his brother or a second parent, and I try to make sure we get a chance as often as I can. Actually, I like it too.

Anyway, when he rediscovered the bee yesterday, he pulled on it and released it. It buzzed its way back into the cube. He giggled and pointed to it. “Gas.”

“What? What did you say?”

He pulled the bee again and giggled as it buzzed. “Gas. Gas, Daddy. Gas.”

I started to chuckle. Now that I looked at it, it did seem like the bee was farting his way back into the cube. Still, it seemed like the sort of thing I should correct. “No,” I said. “He’s just buzzing. He’s a bee! Bee’s buzz”

He pulled the bee again. Bzzzzzz, giggle, giggle. “Gas!” He clapped. “Bee’s have gas!”

“No. It sounds like, ah, gas… but it’s”

Bzzzzz.  Giggle, giggle, giggle. “Gas!”

“I – “

Bzzzzz. Giggle, giggle, giggle. “Gas!”

You win. It’s gas. Who knows? Maybe that’s the real secret behind how bumblebees fly.