739. Kids Start With "K"

Kids start with a Kiss in the backseat of a Buick, and a few months later, you find out that strange Knot in your stomach actually means you’re Knocked up.  The doctor forbids you from drinking but, oh, how you’d Kill for a beer right now, or a whole Keg:  you’re being Kicked in the Kidneys by what feels like a Kangaroo practicing Kung-fu.         

When the baby arrives, he throws your whole world off Kilter.  He brings no Keys to his behavior, no book of Knowledge for you to flip through—you must always guess.  You wonder how some other parents just Know what to do, because you don’t.  You can’t Keep up.  One thing is for sure:  there is a new King in your castle, and it’s not you. 

Those sexy abs you used to be so proud of?  Kaput.  Impromptu Kayaking trips on the weekend?  No longer.  Any hobby you were Keen on is a distant memory.      

Is this some sort of Karmic payback from terrorizing your own parents for 18 years?  Maybe you should have Kowtowed to them once in a while and treated them with Kindness.   

It seems you spend your whole life in the Kitchen now, cooking meals that will be scoffed at by people under three feet tall, people with a Knack for perpetually skinned Knees, and Ketchup on their faces.       

Finally, unbelievably, your children reach school-age.  Kudos to you for lasting this long.  You meet Kindred spirits at the Kindergarten open house, and when one of them stops to ask you about your Kooky Kids, you smile wide and reply, “Yes, we’ve decided to Keep them.”

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