Weapons of Mass Diarrhea

I don't know when the world is going to end but I think I know how: toddler germs.  That's right, a tiny child will end it all with a deadly sneeze.  It turns out that while children are cute and cuddly, they also serve as deadly incubators of infectious diseases of plague-like proportions.  Forget SARS, bird flu, nuclear destruction or global warming; it's the children who will lead us down the path of armageddon, leaving nothing but a trail of tissues and empty antibiotic bottles.

Don't get me wrong: I love kids.  But sick children can easily level an entire nation within a matter of hours.  One cough is worth a thousand germs, germs that house unspeakable horrors.  I am shocked that preschool teachers are not required to wear hazmat suits during flu season.  I'd go on, but the cold meds are kicking in again.  If you have sick children, I suggest you wrap them in sterile bubble wrap before kissing them good night and then take a hot shower after, just in case.

When Did I Become an Adult??!?!

I had been looking forward to it all week: a Sunday afternoon spent playing Rock Band with my sister and her family.  (And a guilt-free Sunday at that as I am on Spring break and have all week to grade those papers that are nagging at me even though I stuffed them really far under my bed.) It was going to be the perfect Sunday as I introduced Sue to a game that the whole family enjoys. But something tragic happened since our last trip to Lexington....

You have to understand that as a child, I wanted nothing more than to play the drums. I asked for a drumset every year for roughly 6 years before I finally received it one very happy Christmas.  Sadly, it went right to the basement, the one area of the house I did not enjoy spending any quality time in.  It was cold, damp and a bit creepy.  I didn't mind going there with someone else but apparently my "skills" on the skins dictated that drum time = alone time for little Kim.  The drums were quickly abandoned and pretty much became dust collectors by spring.  Video games filled the void and I actually displayed some aptitude at the Atari 2600, enough so that other people relished the challenge.  But the passion for the drums never fully died.

Fast forward to January 2008 and the purchase of the aforementioned Rock Band video game for Noah's birthday.  We had fun playing it that first night but Sue wasn't there and we had other things to do.  I only played once or twice and chalked up my somewhat mediocre performance to the fact that it was a new game and Sue wasn't there to enjoy it with me.  Here's where the story gets tragic.

We arrived at my sister's and quickly set the game up.  Since the drums were a bit challenging, I graciously offered Sue one of the guitars and dove for the drumset.  My inner four year old emerged.  Unfortunately, I mean that in both a figurative and literal sense: the passion and excitement were there but so were the skills of little Kim.  Only this time, it was much worse.

I quickly realized something was amiss when the game started booing.  Instead of the fast, furious beat of "Blitzkrieg Bop," I could only hear the occasional pathetic crash and thud of what sounded like an infant rummaging through the drawer of pots and pans in the kitchen.  And before I could stop myself, I uttered the phrase I thought only lame grown-ups used: "I don't understand how to play this.  I think the game is broken!"  

As soon as I said it, a wave of cold nausea gripped my insides.  Somewhere between getting a real job, paying a mortgage, feeling guilty about the size of my carbon footprint (thanks, Larry) and contemplating parenthood, I had become.....an adult.  Not just responsible, in a good way, but a complete tool, the kind who doesn't "get" new cartoons (seriously, anime??!?!), new fashions (what the hell is up with Hollister sizes? I can't pull an XXXL over my head!) or apparently new video games.  

The real kicker is that the laughter I envisioned all of us sharing was in fact directed squarely at me.  Apparently, the harder I tried to play, the less aware I became of what I was doing.  I discovered I have a habit of sticking out my tongue when I am concentrating really hard, which had everyone near tears but I was too engrossed to notice.  Still, the game was fun and I enjoyed the quality time with my family.  Because that's what adults do......*sigh.*  I am going to go drink some Metamucil and call it a night.