If I raised my hand to wipe the hair out of my children's eyes, they'd flinch and call their attorney.

We wondered why when a child laughed, he belonged to Daddy, and when he had a sagging diaper that smelled like a landfill, 'He wants his mother.'

When they told me I needed a mastectomy, I thought of the thousands of luncheons and dinners I had attended where they slapped a name tag on my left bosom. I always smiled and said, 'Now, what shall we name the other one?' That would no longer be a problem.

When humor goes, there goes civilization.

Marriage has no guarantees. If that's what you're looking for, go live with a car battery.

I never leaf through a copy of National Geographic without realizing how lucky we are to live in a society where it is traditional to wear clothes.

Who in their infinite wisdom decreed that Little League uniforms be white? Certainly not a mother.