Confessions of a SpongeMom

Who lives with a toddler and watches TV. . .
Absorbent and yellow and porous are we. . .
List'ning to nautical nonsense all day. . .
Any wonder my brain's gone astray?

The SpongeBob invasion of my psyche began innocently enough. I'd be washing the dishes with a . . . yellow sponge . . . and hear that maniacal laugh over and over coming from the other room where my son sat mesmerized in front of the tube. Before I knew it, I began sponging behind everyone's back. After my son fell asleep, I'd sneak in more SpongeBob "on demand," watching the funny yellow guy into the wee hours of the night. I even downloaded his laugh for my ringtone. His laugh was with me everywhere now: in the car, at the playground, in the cereal aisle of the supermarket.

One night, I made a delectable seafood dinner. "Honey, we're having mr. krabs and squidward tonight!"

That's when my husband began to worry. He arranged for an Intervention and hired a shrink. I feel fine, I told them. I just have a case of the Suds. Yes, the Suds. But don't worry. It's a mild case.

"Barb," the shrink leaned forward and leveled with me. "You-must-stop-all-things-Sponge."

"All things?"

"You need to get out more," she said. "Stop living under a rock!"

"I don't live under a rock. That's Patrick. The pink guy."

"Alright, obviously I don't know the show. What I'm saying is – Stop! Cold! Sponge!"

"But how?" I pleaded.

"Replace him with something positive. A hobby or something."

"Blowing bubbles in the backyard?"

"No," she shook her head impatiently.

"Um, how about dancing?" I offered.

The shrink's eyes lit up. She saw progress.

"Dancing is perfect, if that's what you like to do."

"Ever since I was a little girl, I've dreamed of square dancing," I continued.

My husband looked relieved. Thank Neptune, his wife wasn't a total sponge job.

Two days later, we drove to the adult education center and signed up for class. My husband signed his name, and I signed mine . . .

SpongeBarb SquareDance.

This may just be my best day ever.