Someone once asked, "Why are parents so impatient for a child to take his first steps and speak his first words, when the parents will spend the next 17 years telling the kid to shut up and sit down?"
I disagree. I see a walking child as one who can bring me my slippers from the other side of the room, and a talking child as one whom I can intelligently warn about the dangers of life. For example:
Don't pet that dog; it will eat your face off.
Don't go into the street; a car will run you over and you'll end up like a banana pancake. That includes your new shoes.
Don't forget to wash your hands after playing in the sand. There are tiny eggs under your fingernails that get into your mouth and hatch in your belly, and then at night worms crawl out of your bottom. (I especially like this one because after I say it, I get a 10-minute break as they discuss it quietly among themselves.)
Don't crawl into the refrigerator. There is green stuff on the leftovers that is growing faster than you are. By morning it will break out of the plastic containers and beat you up.
Don't touch the knives. You'll cut off your fingers and then you can say goodbye to things like ripping off your diaper, locking yourself in the bathroom and poking the dessert just before the company comes.
Don't stand around with your fingers in your nose. Other kids will think you're creepy and throw sand at you. Plus, their parents will wonder where you learned it.
Don't unbuckle your seat belt. You might get put in prison. You'll have to celebrate your birthday with a bunch of murderers and perverts.
Don't bite on that electrical cord. There's fire inside that will blow up your teeth.
You'll never be able to chew paper, old gum from the sidewalk or dog
kibble again.
Don't try to climb over the balcony railing. You'll flip over the top and die, then go to a place where a bunch of other bullheaded kids will hit you on the head with a plastic rake when God's not looking.
Don't open the dishwasher and jump up and down on the door. Mommy will have to call a repairman, then Daddy will die.
Don't put your tongue on that. A dog went pee-pee there.
Don't eat those mushrooms in the grass. Remember the king in the Babar book; he did that, turned green and died. You hate green.
Don't drink anything in the garage. It's all poison and we'll have to take you to the hospital and they'll put tubes in your stomach and pump everything
out. It will hurt when the Barbie head comes back up.
Don't lick the pigeons. It's bad enough we're feeding them moldy bread.
Don't play in the fireplace. A reindeer went pee-pee in there.
Don't hit Mommy's old computer with that toy hammer. If it breaks, Daddy will have to buy a new one. On second thought, here's a real hammer.
Don't try to kiss the goat. It eats garbage and will go after whatever that
thing is in your mouth.
Don't play in the toilet. Remember, the toilet is dirty even though it looks clean, and your cup is clean even though it looks dirty.
Don't keep on wearing those old shoes. They're too small and your feet will
shrivel up like the potatoes in the vegetable drawer and you won't be able to run away from me.
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