Scene: Our living room. Shortcake, The General, and I are sitting on the couch looking through Shortcake's baby book per her request. Punkin is randomly flitting around the room asking for autographs.
Punkin begins walking out of the room to brush her teeth, takes no more than three steps, and releases a very loud fart (best description of the sound: a duck's quack). The three of us, from our seats on the couch, turn to chastise her for being so disgusting but before we can even utter a word Punkin casually looks over her shoulder and announces, "Put that in your baby book" and saunters out of the room.
She's more like her Uncle Poke every single day.