The boys were fighting and rather than jumping into the fray as a human bastion of harmony, I walked away. I walked up to my bedroom where bundles of yarn were waiting with their best and most silent behaviour, unwilling to tangle and relegate themselves into a toddler's crafting box.
And by walking away, the boys were forced to find their own equilibrium. Minutes later laughter tumbled up the staircase. It made me realise that farting is such a unifying force and something (unlike the golden chair) they are so completely and utterly willing to share with each other. Air is free and plentiful I guess, even when it is a bit warm and fluffy.