Bungee jumping and skydiving are for wimps. If you want to experience true gut-wrenching terror... have children.

I'm convinced our 3-year-old is part bloodhound...

It's bad enough that her super-sensitive sniffer has her calling me out at assumed moments of solitude when...well...when you got to do what you've got to do. Of course, her acute sense of hearing may play a part in that also, but that's not what we're talking about today.

What terrifies me most is her lack of public discernment or even an ounce of tact that leaves the potential for an ill-timed comment in a place like, say Walmart or Target, that could immediately result in anything from tremendous embarrassment to daddy being socked in the nose. It boils down to not if it will happen but to exactly when it will happen.

Luckily, most spontaneous outcries of malodorous air by the 3-year-old have been contained to the homes of family members, well, except the one crying breakdown in a public restroom while she was with Mrs. Tony C...but since her mom didn't get to apologize to the unfortunately humiliated lady in the stall next to them, she has requested I refrain from sharing that hilarious story. I'm sure you can fill in the blanks.

There have been awkward moments in-family recently too. While taking the pre-schooler to her great, grandmothers on Halloween to show off her costume, I let the teenager take her in for a quick visit. My grandmother, God bless her, is 93-years ahead of her youngest great, grandchild. I was watching through the door as the two girls were talking with her, and the look on the younger's face set off an internal alarm in me that knew my presence was either required or about to be required:

Teenager: (as I'm walking in) She sure has a lot of candy so far.

Tony C: (glaring at the 3-year-old peeping up at me) Hey Mamaw. How are you?

Bloodhound Kid: (whining loudly) It stinks in here daddy! It stinks real bad!

Mamaw C: (looking at teenager) What'd she say?

Teenager: (thinking fast and talking loud) She said she's a pumpkin.

Mamaw C: Yes you are sweety, and a very cute pumpkin.

Tony C: (grabbing Bloodhound Kid by the hand) Give Mamaw C a hug so we can trick or treat a little more.

Pumpkin Kid: Bye Mamaw! Love you! (running back to car)

Now in car Pumpkin Kid: Mommy, it stinked real bad in there!

Mrs. Tony C: (to me) What was it?

Tony C: 96... (teenager giggling in the back)

Mrs. Tony C: Tony! That's not very nice!

Tony C: Hey! I hope I'm lucky enough to smell 96 some day.

Pumpkin Kid: That's not nice daddy! It stinked real bad in the house! You don't say those words!

Of course, she had no idea why she was calling me out and just followed her mom's lead. There's another common trait of most post-toddler children...they don't forget anything. When we visited my grandmother this week and the little one froze upon stepping on her porch and seeing the door, I had to get creative pretty quick:

Reluctant Youngest: No daddy! It stinks! It stinks real bad!

Tony C: Want to ride the horse outside of the grocery store? Let's go in here and visit Mamaw, and when we leave, I promise we'll stop by and let you ride the horse...twice!

Excited Princess: I can ride the horsey! Yay! Ride the horsey!

My only fear from that point was the little stinker would yank the lever on my grandmother's recliner and launch her into the floor. That's a game she plays with her grandfather who can move around a whole lot better at this point.

I can only imagine what my grandchildren will say about me one day...