Last night we introduced a small bin of play food to the playroom in the vain hope of cutting down the number of fights taking place around the toy kitchen the boys got for Christmas. Everyone clusters around the colorful pile of plastic food and cardboard boxes of nothing, each boy staking claim to his personal favorites. Jack selects a pile of green peas.
Jack: Hey, dad. I'm gonna make pea soup.
Jason: Oh, yeah?
Jack: Yeah. Know why?
Jason (still unsuspecting): No. Why?
Jack: 'Cause anybody can roast beef, but nobody can pee soup!
Jack disintegrates into gales of laughter as Jason excitedly calls everyone he knows to share the comic genius of his oldest child. In the meantime, I begin a series of mental mathematics. If x is the number of years remaining until college multiplied by 365 days within those years, and y represents the total number of scatologic references one child is able to make per day, multiplied by 4 children. Then Z should be the total number of times I question whether it's possible for me to survive another second in this drowning pool of testosterone. I am officially abandoning all hope.
Happy Memorial Day, everybody!
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