This is my second letter to you regarding your flatulence and I fear that it will not be the last. It wasn't too long ago that I compared you to the atomic bomb but it has gotten so much worse. We've tried to change your food, we've racked our brain as to what may be be festering inside your bowels, we've asked you flat out "Oh my God, what is wrong with you," but sadly to no avail. I know it's not just me and my super powered pregnant sniffer because even Mr. Awesome is appalled too.
I see this sweet face now and all I see death, because every time you let one go I die a little inside. I'm beginning to think you are doing it just to spite me, already rebelling against the baby by dropping bombs all over the house because the frequency has gone up exponentially. Maybe you're marking your territory before he gets here, "back left hand corner of the bedroom...check. Left and right sides of the couch...check...check."
I have no idea what to do next besides may be looking into puppy colonoscopies.