My husband seems to think that I have this awful aliment. Things just spew out of my mouth uncontrollably. For example, when I told his mother, over a nice dinner, that her kitchen wall paper was totally out dated. He refers to these thoughtless spells of mine as "diarrhea of the mouth."
If this is in fact what I suffer from, than I think my children have come down with the same affliction. My boys tend to share the most humiliating things at the most inopportune times. Like the time we were shopping at the Gap and my Tank announced to the kind woman behind the counter, "My mommy poopies in the potty." Or the time that my little General's pre-school teacher noted how much Scotty had grown over vacation, and he responded with, "yeah, I'm getting bigger so I can drink beer like my Dad."
Yes, I am beginning to believe that this particular sickness really does exist. Our most recent presentation of the indisposition happened at our neighborhood block party. Again it was the General who was unable to control himself, while he looked at our very kind yet very bald neighbor, he and asked, "Where did all of your hair on your head go? Is it hiding on your back?" I quickly apologized and told my neighbor, who was thankfully humored by the remark, that my children and I suffer from what my husband refers to as "diarrhea of the mouth." He chuckled and assured me that it wasn't just us, his wife and children make him endure the same condition.