As a parent, I have come to the conclusion that there is a Parent's Club Organization somewhere that organizes and designs rules of behavior which are then sent subliminally to all the parents in the known universe.  These messages embed themselves and control our behaviors, making us act in bizarre ways.

Don't believe me?  Consider:

When was the last time you saw a single person walk up to a person they don't even know, look at a nearby child which is obviously that person's, and say something inane like "They grow up so fast."

First of all, DUH!  What does that mean, anyway?  I guess it's supposed to be the married person's version of "Time sure flies when you're having fun."  Ironically, though, the subliminal triggers require that we make this kind of observation within one minute of the child having bitten or mauled another kid, or wet his/her pants, or vomited up the last fourteen meals in the middle of the sand box.  Yeah.  Time sure flies.  The years go by quickly... it's the individual minutes that barely move sometimes.

But, because of the power of these subliminal messages, we parents are compelled not just to say this kind of twaddle to complete strangers, but also to nod with a sort of hazy-but-beatific-look on our faces when it is said to us.  Like we agree with it, and aren't secretly praying that young Jimmy (or some other name if you have kids not named Jimmy - I don't want to leave you out of it) will manage to leave the playground without anyone noticing the round chocolatey "package" that somehow just escaped the elastic band that holds his "form fitting" diapers (which are now sagging almost to the ground, doncha-know*) to his sand-filled bottom.

Not convinced yet?  How 'bout this one: when was the last time a single person (Single Person #1) ever looked at another single person (Singler Person #2) in the produce aisle and found themselves irrevocably constrained to judge that whole person's (Single Person #2's) life value based on the activities of the two people closest to him/her (Single Person #2).

That's right, NEVER.  The only time single people even NOTICE other single people are a) when said Single Person of the Second Part is withdrawing an Uzi and commencing Operation Mow 'Em Down or b) when said Single Person is Very Hot.  And even then, they notice the PERSON, not the people nearest to them.

Contrast this to the average parent, who apparently in addition to the subliminal messages has also been secretly outfitted with Kid Radar (or "Kradar" to the people who are In The Know) that allows them to track incoming children at a 40 yard distance, sight unseen.  So there's a Kid within that range (or Blast Area to those who are also In The Know), and what do parents have to do?  Stop what they're doing and track the movement of the Kid, waiting for little Jimmy (yes, Jimmy is EVERYWHERE) to do something asinine that will allow us Parents to shake our heads internally like we've just witnessed the birth of the next Hitler and it's all little Jimmy's parent's fault because clearly that is a Bad Parent and a Bad Person!

Seriously, this is beyond just being some sort of genetic urge.  There has GOT to be someone pressing our buttons.  We could be performing open heart surgery in the produce aisle (this happens more than you would think), and as parents we would have to stop in between taking out the original heart and putting the new one in to notice a kid stealing a grape and spend some time to shaking our heads, secure in the knowledge that that kid's Bad Parent has just contributed to the future downfall of the human race.

Don't believe me?  Test it.  Grab some kids (preferably some loaners that a friend lets you borrow... turns out if you just take some from the front of the supermarket you end up with cops on your tail for the next seven years no matter how often you proclaim that it was an accident and you were trying to conduct a science experiment so no harm done).  Now take said kids to the market.  Encourage one of them to do something awful.  This can be done by showing them something awful and saying "Now you do it," or you can opt for simply waiting: children in public places are constrained by their own Child Control Organization** to do Awful Bad Things whenever in public for more than 64 seconds.

So the child does something awful, like puking all over the candy stand.  Now QUICK!  Look around!

Notice that there are eight people nearby.  Of them, seven either don't notice or are pretending not to.  One person is watching with a sort of amused and disgusted look that reminds you of the look on your parole officer's face.  That person has kids.  Guaranteed.  You can go right up to them and say, "Do you have kids?" if you need verification.

Which brings me to another weird thing that parents do: they answer questions.  I'm not talking normal things, like "What is 2+2?" or "Do you know what the capital of Estonia is?"  I'm talking personal stuff.  "Do you have kids?"  "How old are they?"  "Where do they go to school?"  "Really?  That's a good school, it must cost a bundle; how do you afford that?"  "Oh, crack-dealing, eh?  Yeah, how is that line of work?"  "Any trouble with the feds?"

Contrast this to Single People (BTW, I think "Single People" is a funny category because how can one person be both "Single" and a "People"?  It makes no sense!  Humanity is on the brink, I tell you!).  They, when asked something - be it personal ("So, how are the herpes?") or less personal ("So, how are your friend's herpes?") - are amazing for the fact that they FEEL NO COMPUNCTION TO ANSWER WHATSOEVER unless it a) is fun or b) will allow them to make friends with the Extremely Hot Person asking the question.

There you have it.  Three or more (I've lost count and frankly don't care enough to go back and check) concrete examples of the weird behavior that parents engage in.  This behavior turns on immediately when we become parents.  To date I am unaware of any "off" button.  Maybe the button falls off when your kids leave home.  Or maybe it's there forever, like being  a parent is some kind of one-way no-return trip to the Boobie Hatch.***

We're spending untold billions reforming Health Care, trying to reform aspects of our economic markets, and other fairy tales like feeding the poor.  But I think we all see now that that is really a cover-up.  Mere parlor tricks designed to divert our attention away from the sinister Cabal of parent-ruling Illuminati-types who have somehow managed to tap into our subconscious and plant irresistable urges to do dumb things.

Let's find them!  We must put an end to this insanity before it is too late.  Even now, I am struggling to write these last sentences; I think they're on to me.  Must.  Resist.

Must.  Not.  Give.  In.

Must...

Ooh!  Did you see that kid spill something on Aisle 7?  Where's his mother?  She's clearly got a thing to learn about kids!  Sheesh.

*  Apparently Jimmy's parents just escaped from the movie FARGO.  I don't know why.

** This is the subject of another Little Thought for another day.

*** "Boobie Hatch" being one of the funniest things you can call an insane asylum.