Previously tolerable parents turn into complete morons trying to communicate with an 18 months old. A good example is our prodigal son yesterday yelling "biatch, biatch, biiiiaatch!" while pointing at his feet. For parents whose brains have turned into mulch, of-course, we understand 'Pied, Pied' which is French for “foot”.
What Kieran really meant was: "Bitch, I'll kick your ass with my right foot, if you don't get me a cookie now." But we are parents and misunderstand Kieran's theme.
To me, this is an early warning sign of what's about to come:
Moderately intelligent parents with semi-intellectual quasi-philosophical pretentions who normally can be above average debaters and generally good discussion partners turn into absolute social-psychopaths, completely unable to speak 2 sentences without mentioning their offspring. The problem is, of course, that discretion no longer appears in the parent's thought patterns.
So they openly talk about:
- the fact that their child woke them up, brutally humping the teddy bear. (soo cute)
- the fact that their child blasted a brownie in the swimming pool. (oh my.)
- the fact that their child viciously spread a candy-bar over 12 square meters of paint and carpet. (naughty, naughty, naughty).
Listening to the remarkably dull stories I think to myself: lucky I'm with Emma, I think we'll be able to prevent this brain-rot by staying active and doing the things we do. Although my last 3 posts mentioned Kieran... O my god... and so does this one... O noooo, IT’S HAPPENING...
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