BY WHITNEY COLLINS

1. The force, yes. It everywhere is. Even in that diaper. Huge it is.

2. The baby to sleep put. Then vodka you can drink.

3. Spank do not. Unless you want your child a homosexual drug addict to be.

4. Sex never again you will have. Unless for it you pay.

5. His mind Yoda change. That baby a Sith be. Spank you must. Beat even.

6. The dark side I sense in you. To formula I think you should switch.

7. Twilight is upon me. Soon night must fall. For you? Not so much.

8. Vaginal birth more painful than c-section is. There. Yoda that argument solve.

9. Wookiees great nannies make.

BY ELIZABETH BASTOS

1. Notice the good things your children and husband are doing. (Maybe they are drawing their letters on the dry-erase board. Good for them!)

2. Tell them you've noticed. (And choose words like: "I've noticed the word ANUS.")

3. Say what makes you proud about it. ("And that this time Daddy correctly spelled it!")

4. Smile beatifically, then busy yourself in the kitchen making all-white-meat-pounded-panko-breaded chicken nuggets.

5. The easiest way to be positive is not to think.

6. So, conclude dinner with encouragement and hope for the future. (Try this: "Next time, Alexander, you're going to remember how it felt to have peas stuffed up your nose. And you'll make different choices!")

7. Again, smile beatifically, clean up, and, again, don't think.

8. Do not be sarcastic.

9. You might get some reward sex from your husband because "Good job, you moron, next time why don't you spell DOUCHEBAG!" is what you won't have said.

Elizabeth is a stay-at-home mother of two under five. Before having kids, she worked in corporate and foundation relations, and before that at the Museum of Science, Boston. She moonlights writing in the very early mornings before everyone gets up and wants things. In the little free time she has, Elizabeth makes complicated French patries to tempt her kids into doing what she asks. Her work has appeared in Terrain.org, The Delmarva Review, McSweeney's Internet Tendency, Tar River Poetry, and the Baltimore City Paper. Visit her blog: www.goodybastos.blogspot.com. Elizabeth can be reached at: elizabeth.bastos@gmail.com.

BY JOHN CAVE OSBORNE

1. Outside of sporting events and camping trips, my triplets are the biggest reason the hotdog industry is alive and well.

2. Necessity taught me how to pick up and carry three babies at the same time. It also taught me how to relieve myself while holding two and using my leg to keep the third out of, um, the line of fire.

3. Little boys wear gowns. (Really?) These gowns are manufactured by companies with names like Kissy Kissy. (Is this true???) Said manufacturers, I've concluded, are trying to turn my boys into the laughing stock of the male baby community. Why don't they just go ahead and hand out free ass-kickings with each emasculating purchase my wife insists on making?

4. I could win the Nobel Peace Prize, but most people would still know me as "that poor bastard with two-year-old triplets."

5. Our dog likes to eat soiled diapers which should have come as no surprise. After all, my wife's always said he's got shit for brains. I suppose it was only a matter of time before he started having shit for lunch.

6. With three babies, it's virtually impossible to be over-protective, which, incidentally, has filled me with disdain for those who are. You know, those who act as if they're the first couple to ever have a baby? The ones who treat their infant as if the very survival of planet Earth is directly proportional to their kid's well-being? Friendly reminder for such folks: you're like the umpteenth BILLION couple to have a baby. This month. Back in the stone ages, babies were raised in caves, for crying out loud. They're not gonna break. Quit treating them like they might. If your kid misses a nap, eats some dirt, or skins his knee, he'll be okay. All you're doing is creating a sissy. (Wait, you don't work for a baby clothing manufacturer, do you?)

7. Buttons suck, snaps rock, and zippers RULE!

8. Doubling the size of your family overnight by quadrupling the number of children in it does not affect the amount of love you can give each one. Love is infinite, and infinity divided by any number is still infinity.

9. It turns out my mom was right. Kissing a dog on the mouth isn't such a great idea after all.

John Cave Osborne is a husband, stepfather to an 8-year-old daughter, dad to two-year-old triplets, small business owner (granite countertop fabricator), author of the book Tales from the Trips, and a blogger, hiker, camper, runner, and head-turner on the dance floor. You can learn more about John and his book at: laughterthoughtmedia.com. He can be reached at: john@laughterthoughtmedia.com.

BY K. BOND

1. Gitouta Miefavrit Chare

2. Aktliek Wealwayz Blesdinner

3. Rimoat Duznt Bilongtuyu

4. Leftlysaul Nthebath Ruumforue

5. Eckscoozd Frumbringin Tupotlux

6. Icuduze Themunie Youohme

7. Nowii Ifu Saishesteenks

8. Nosexifu Tellem Iregift

9. Yuritchin Foray Butwoopin

K. Bond is the Grand Prize Winner of our Thanksgiving-themed Top Nine List Contest. K. wins $50, lots of errant parent merchandise, and a bottle of Kentucky bourbon. Congrats!! K. lives in St. Louis near the Arch with her husband and two rambunctious (yet adorable) children. She holds a BBA and draws on experience in business writing to entertain readers. Her fiction is published in various online and print publications. She can be reached at: k.bondofstl@yahoo.com

BY REBECCA NAZAR

1. Police Do Not Cross Tape

2. A Plethora of Post-It Notes That Read: I Have Tested Positive for (fill in the blank).

3. Soap Chips

4. Fly Tape (unused)

5. Shaving Cream (used)

6. Pine Bark

7. Small Mirrors

8. Old Birds' Nests

9. Coarse-grade Sandpaper

*because the "Please Don't Touch" t-shirt was a bust last year

Rebecca is the Runner-up for our Thanksgiving-themed Top Nine List Contest. Rebecca lives in Readfield, Maine. She can be reached at: becca.nazar@gmail.com

1. A hot car.

2. A meat locker, after hours.

3. In the same place you hid the time before.

4. A cannon. Unless, maybe, you have on a helmet.

5. A clothes dryer. Unless, maybe, it's one of those big ones at the laundromat, and then that might be sorta cool. Plus, you could see out and wave and crap.

6. In a crowd of unsuspecting nitwits wearing a red-and-white striped shirt and a red-and-white striped tam and some dorky-ass spectacles.

7. In a bathroom stall, crouched on the toilet seat. Like no one's ever going to look there.

8. In a godforsaken weather balloon, that is, if you can find one. My dad never made anything that cool. Have you ever tried hiding in a three-legged, lopsided, plywood magazine rack? Huh? HUH?!

9. In an f-ing box in the f-ing attic for four f-ing hours.