No. 48

Don't know how it happened exactly, but I've developed kind of a weird habit when the boys are in the process of getting in trouble.

Instead of saying something I'll regret and have to apologize for later, I've taken to saying, "For the love of ..." -- and here's the strange part -- I'll include the name of a baseball player from the 1970s or 80s. Thing is, the better the player, the more they know it's just a warning shot across the bow.

For the love of Pete Rose ...

For the love of Mike Schmidt ...

For the love of Tony Perez ...

For the love of Johnny Bench ...

For the love of Nolan Ryan ...

They're OK, for the time being. But if I start evoking scrubs, Adam and Jesse know for a fact that the four horses of the apocalypse are about to head through our house.

For the love of Biff Pocoroba ... Jesse, we're dead men.

For the love of Ed Armbrister ... hide. NOW!!!