I’ve reached the point in my life where my memory is slipping a bit. You know — getting on a bus with a movie ticket, finding my sneakers in the freezer, or driving on the left side of the road. Backwards.
But there is one memory I will never forget: the day I had my mouth washed out with soap. I had just turned 4, and for reasons I cannot explain, I found the phrase "doodie head" to be nothing short of brilliant, so I was running around expressing myself thusly. Finally, my mother had had enough:
Mom: "Josh, if you keep talking like that, I'm going to wash your mouth out with soap!"
[Pause]
Me: "You're a doodie head!"
Next thing you know, I’m being dragged to the bathroom, where I indeed get my mouth washed out with soap as promised.
It wasn't so bad, perhaps because she used Ivory Soap. (Note: if she thought that this futile act would somehow prevent me from developing a foul mouth, she was wrong as ####.)
