Mark KennedySometimes, I get sad thinking about about my kids growing up. So I try to think of things about them I won't miss.
It's aversion therapy.
So, here, in no particular order, are 10 things about parenting I've decided I can live without.
* Church directory photos. Before there was Facebook, there were church directories. They're good for identifying people who have just died or, as we say at church, "passed away," which sounds like vaporizing.
The problem with church directories is that your picture never looks like just regular, ordinary you. At that moment in time, you are always either too fat or too skinny. A "skinny" church picture is actually worse that "fat" church picture. I've got a picture of "skinny me" on the mantel that stares down at at me every time I eat a thick-crust pizza from Domino's.
When our kids leave home, there won't be any more church photos. Nada.
* Nerf bullets. There's a rule at my house: If a Nerf-gun bullet hits the floor, it becomes my property.
Nerf bullets are little foam things about the size of your index finger with a suction cup on one end. In my experience, the suction cups don't actually suck unless you spit on the tip of your bullet and stand two inches away from a wall. This seems like a really obvious design flaw. Every time a Nerf bullet fails to stick to the wall at our house, it is essentially committing suicide.
* Tree debris. Until you become a parent, it never occurs you that big, important things will end up hanging upside-down in a tree in your front yard. And it's not just obvious things like remote control airplanes and kites. We have a 9-iron stuck in a tree.
Show me a house with a Big Wheel and a shirtless Ken doll up in an oak tree and I'll show you an ordinary American family. I'm thinking about having a yard sale where people bring shotguns and pay $1 apiece for anything they can knock down.
* Halloween candy. Don't ask me how, but my two boys made it home with 13 pounds of candy last Saturday night. How do you gather that much candy without a handgun or a Mafia connection?
* Poster projects. Some parents look forward to the post-diaper phase. I, on the other hand, am looking forward to the post-poster phase.
I helped my son last week do a poster-board book report in the shape of a human skeleton. In typical daddy fashion, I pretended to be an expert.
"Let's start at the head," I told my 9-year-old son.
"Why?" he said. "I want to start at the feet."
"That doesn't seem right," I said. "We should definitely start at the head."
"How do you know?" he asked. "Have you ever done a book report on a skeleton before?"
Actually, no.
* Dirty, rotten shin guards. Both of my boys play soccer several times a week. Their mother always washes their uniforms, and sometimes I'll bang their shoes together to get the mud off.
Nobody, however, ever cleans the boys' shin guards, mainly because that would involve actually touching them. Continuous contact with sweaty boy-parts year after year makes them smell like little skunk saddles.
* Waterlogged baseballs. Although neither of my sons has played baseball in four years, I'm still running over waterlogged baseballs with our lawn mower. The problem with waterlogged baseballs is that they weigh 10 times more than normal baseballs, so you toss them aside, blow out your rotator cuff and concuss the yard gnome.
* Nail clippings. No amount of pleading will get boys to be more discreet with their discarded toenail clippings. I always fear they will end up as crumbs at the bottom of a Doritos bag. It should be mandatory that boys get their toenails clipped professionally with every haircut and/or sports physical.
* Pizza buffets. My younger son loves pizza buffets. Alas, life teaches us all - eventually - to avoid all-you-can eat pizza and bottomless boiled shrimp.
* Morning hair. Chasing a late-for-school boy with a spray bottle and a hair brush is my life's work. I can kill a cowlick from across the room. But I'm ready to retire from such simple pleasures.
At least until the grandbabies arrive.
Contact Mark Kennedy at mkennedy@timesfreepress.com or 423-757-6645. Follow him on Twitter @TFPCOLUMNIST. Subscribe to his Facebook updates at www.facebook.com/mkennedycolumnist.