We’re raising our kids in a college town, and we live in a college neighborhood.

It’s cool, we like it. We chose it, actually. It’s lively. It’s dynamic.

It’s … um … sometimes a little bit drunk.

You know, this means our kids have heard some things. Things not read in nursery rhymes, or learned on Dora.

Well, unless there’s an episode of Dora where she’s a hammered college student reeling from a devastating beer-pong loss or a messy break-up.

But to be fair, my kids have said some things too. Ridiculous things, in various states of irritation, heartbreak, and full-throttle meltdown.

And you know what? It all blends together – the lit student rants, the hanger-fueled toddler rage – it’s like one big slightly incoherent, generally passionate statement.

So, hey, let’s play a game!

Who Said It? My Kids or a Drunk Guy?

It stinks in your car. It stinks like HERBS and PEANUTS.

Oh yeah? Well, those were some crappy meatballs!

Are you even good at driving? I’m not good at driving. Who is good at driving? Is anyone good at driving? Because I’m not, and I don’t think you are either.

It’s just that… I just… I never get any alone time.

Where’s taco guy? I need taco guy. I LOVE TACO GUY SO MUCH.

You wasted that rock & roll. It was terrible.

So, a dolphin would help save a bad guy, but you wouldn’t?

You’re not watching. You’re chatting. That’s not watching.

I don’t like that bathroom. But I do like candy.

Dammit.

Remember back when we used to snuggle more?

I like to sleep with my socks on, ok? I like it.

Don’t tell me how to wipe. I KNOW HOW TO WIPE.

I’m not sure we can actually live together forever.

You need a new man. You need a man with two arms.

That guy’s not nice. You can tell by his eyebrows, they’re down-brows. Down-brows are not nice.

I’m going outside to pee. Because I learned how to. And I can.

I love you. You’re pretty, and smart, and you smell like new carpet.

Did you see that karate chop?! Dude. I think I broke the wall.

How come we’re always LOOKING for the party? We’re never AT the party.

We’re late. We’re lost. We need to pee. We could die.