they say that having children is the kiss of death to parents’ brain cells.

i now stand in the kitchen and think, “where do we keep the plates? why am i forgetting this? is it part of the aging process or because i am distracted by the naked bird who is drawing all over himself while standing on the kitchen counter? i guess i’ll never know.”

the very same adults who excel in the board room, the court room, and the classroom, people who have been forming reasonable sentances all of their lives, say the most ridiculous things to their children.

my friend who has a phD drew my attention to this phenomenon. it seems that no amount of schooling can prevent one from uttering words such as:

watch out for the broccoli on the stairs.

i have two (TWO!) friends who confess to having said to their kids with great authority:

do not lick the car.

in just a week of paying attention to my own absurd directives, i have been appalled as the following words have left my lips:

hold your sandwich so i can wipe your bottom.

if you are going to play with the fire, please use a different stick.

you may not hit your brother in the swimming pool.

and finally, in reference to the above mentioned kitchen counter escapades of the bird:

do not color your penis.

the good news is that all of this stuff made perfect sense in context. the bad news is that parenting presents the most preposterous series of contexts!

in the coming weeks, i’m going to be reporting on the wacko words that escape my mouth, and i hope you’ll do the same. send me your own personal versions of authoritative nonsense.

what we are losing in brain cells, we might just make up for in hysterical fits of laughter.

elise was completely unimpressed last week with my reality project submission entitled bowl of big-boy-pants .

i have to admit that it pales in comparison with her composition of a similar nature:

what with the pez dispenser, the pin cushion, the golf glove, the classic novel, and the dog shit bag, there is really no contest. and hey — is that crystal?

perhaps i can redeem myself in the kitchen avalanche category. we moved into our current home in september of 2008, and by early october, this stalagmite had formed from concentrated amounts of bibs, dish towels, and compact disks, as well as common kitchen items such as floaties, soccer trophies, and elastic.

i will be devastated if anyone attempts to straighten this area. i know exactly where everything is right now.

keep ’em coming folks!