My mind is pretty melty at the moment.
I mean, I spend every waking moment in the company of children, and by "children" I mean cute yet stupid little monkeys. Here are a few examples from Justin (4.5 years old) and Harmony (almost 2):
Justin: "Harmony, stop sticking your shoe in your butt."
Harmony: "Here's booger." (wipes it in my hand)
Justin: (while in the hot tub) "Dada, when I stick my penis in the bubbles it feels funny. Try it!"
Harmony: (fully nude except for sandals) "Ready to go!"
Everything I thought about in college is gone. Whenever I repeat "Eat at the table" or "Come here" or "Keep your hands to yourself" or "Look with your eyes, not with your hands" over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again, I can feel my brain leaking out the edges: my skull is a glazed donut, and the filling is squishing through the cracks.
I keep thinking that when I talk with other adults that they can see my brain oozing out. I feel like rationalizing it to them, "Sorry, don't mind me, apparently you don't need that particular organ to survive. Who knew all of that grey matter was a waste of space? I thought for sure I'd have psychokinesis or telepathy by now, but instead I can barely remember what I did two days ago. See ya, I'm going to disintegrate further!"
A dormant part of me wonders if there is some evolutionary reason for children being so annoying, as if the repetition has developed over millions of years to kill the parent, one brain cell and heart attack at a time. I mean, these things I've spawned are going to replace me, by any means necessary.
Hell, at least while they're liquefying my consciousness they're cute too.