In his latest book, Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Rodrick Rules, Jeff Kinney nearly put me into the hospital. That man is going to have serious medical bills to pay if this keeps up. I almost busted a gut laughing out loud and almost aspirated my Diet Dr Pepper on a few occasions. And, yes, I hold him completely responsible.

If not for Kinney’s dry wit, keen insight into the lives of elementary school boys (especially their rationalization for EVERYTHING), and fantastic line drawing on nearly every page, I wouldn’t have had so many close brushes with death in his latest book. But he put me there time and time again. Even when I thought I had things figured out (because I was once an elementary school boy with a wild imagination without a governor), Jeff would throw a wrinkle at me that I didn’t see coming. He ambushed me with regularity throughout the pages.

But it’s not just me that Jeff has his merciless sights on. He’s taking out EVERYBODY. My wife teaches elementary school and Jeff’s books are all the rage among the students. I have to admit to adding to that bonfire because I talk about his books all the time (and I have to admit that I haven’t quite become the responsible adult either, because I’ll rile my wife’s fourth grade class up and take my leave —  taking her out to dinner usually gets me off the hook and my cool points go up with the kids).

Parents have become interested in the books and I’ve told them they need to keep up with what their kids are reading. After all, they’re supposed to be responsible parents. (I, myself, have been known to buy extra copies of Jeff’s books and give out as gifts – some parents have accused me of inciting subversion, but I point out that Jeff’s first book was a New York Times bestseller and that is a far better recommendation than I could ever make. Except the Times doesn’t give away Jeff’s books as gifts that I know of. That’s why they hold me more accountable.)

But when I recommend the books to parents, I issue a stern warning. I call it the PYP warning. I especially give it to pregnant mothers and people with weak bladders who read in public places. PYP is Pee Your Pants. The books are just that funny. You’re reading along, and the next thing you know, WHAM! — you’re laughing so hard you’re peeing your pants.