the good thing about having the only children in the city of memphis who have not started school yet is that i have the prolonged opportunity to test out my latest parenting hypothesis by way of an extremely unscientific, completely non-randomized study of one (myself). the theory, and the theme of my last couple of posts, is that parents say ridiculous things to their children because parenting invites a hailstorm of ridiculous situations.

here is a bit of my recently-gathered evidence:

please move your cape so i can bite off your hangnail.

i don’t know what else to tell you. yes, i am the only one in the family without a scrotum… no, i am not sad that i don’t have one… but you should be happy you have one!

and finally,

please stop biting the soap.

and then, there are all the things i dare not send out into the world wide web for fear that my children will bill me for their therapy in 20 years (can you imagine the cost of therapy in 20 years?). but trust me. the best and most ridiculous material is reserved for my own personal fits of hysterical laughter. who needs daytime television when i’ve got a monkey and a bird?

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.

i grew up among packs of children on a quiet little street in the heart of town. the lives of my brother and me were filled with driveway basketball games, tree-climbing, lightning-bug-catching, lemonade stands, and the like. but there were several families in particular who really shaped the days of my youth and the lives of my mom and dad as young parents: the L family, the C family, and the B family surrounded us on three sides.

the L, C, and B children were pretty close in age to my brother and me, and while we were busy getting along famously, our parents were constantly helping each other out. our moms took turns picking us up from school and keeping each other’s children during impromptu errands made easier without kids in tow. there were no scheduled play dates or activities. our parents simply let us loose to waltz through each other’s back doors and live out our days covered in sweat, mosquito bites, and melted popsicle juice.

ours are the only kids who play outside in our current neighborhood, apart from our next-door-neighbor’s granddaughter, who visits occasionally and much to our delight. those who live close to our family are simply in different stages of life than we are but their roles in our existance are still essential. at some point while i was discussing the particularities of perennials, bulbs, and shrubs with our friends next door, i knew i could call on them to gather our mail when we’re out of town and even watch the bird in a pinch while i fetch the monkey from school. in turn, i water their bushes and cover them in baked goods.

there is a certain peace of mind that comes with knowing that there are families around who are ready and willing to lend me an egg, eat my leftovers, venture outside for impromptu conversation, and be available in case of emergency. parenting is just easier when you have good neighbors. i’m full of gratitutude for mine!

[the pictures above are from my childhood and serve as payback for all those times my neighbors beat me in basketball, kicked over my bike, and cheated in flashlight tag.]