There was a time when the respect and trust my children had for me would have made you sick to your stomach. They believed I could blow on a red traffic light and turn it green.

Kids have little computer bodies with disks that store information. They remember who had to do the dishes the last time you had spaghetti, who lost the knob off the TV set six years ago, who got punished for teasing the dog when he wasn't teasing the dog and who had to wear girls boots the last time it snowed.

When children reach the age of sixteen, they discover the meaning of life: car keys.

If compliments were food, I'd have starved to death 28 years ago.

When a child is locked in the bathroom with water running and he says he's doing nothing but the dog is barking, call 911.

Laughter rises out of tragedy when you need it the most, and rewards you for your courage.

Men who have a thirty-six-tele vised-football- games-a- week-habit should be declared legally dead and their estates probated.