Tell me your cute widdle kiddie stories, please.

In My Humble Opinion
1

My cute widdle kiddies are now 23. Even though they still do cute things (like jump up and do the Pepto Bismal dance whenever the commercial comes on), it isn’t the same. I’ll share one of my favorite stories-- I have several-- and you tell me some of yours.
I have twins, a boy and a girl. When they were toddlers it was easier and faster to bath them together and if I filled the tub with a little water and a lot of toys I could attempt to wash dishes or season the chicken or even just sit down for whole minutes at a time. I knew it had to end one day and this was that day.

They were in the tub and I was in the kitchen when Heartache-- the boy-- starts calling me in a panic. “MOMMY, MOMMY!!! Come here. Hurry! HURRY!!!” I ran as quickly as I could, convinced Pain-- the girl-- had banged her head and was bleeding to death from the wound.

“What is it!!!” I yell as I run. I get to the bathroom and Heartache is looking at his sister in horror.

“Pain’s penis is BROKEN!”

2

OK, I’ll bite.

I’m sitting in my bedroom when my then 1.5yo comes stumbling into my bedroom.

I see that he’s chewing on a pizza crust.

At first, I think one of his brothers must have got him a pizza slice from the fridge. Then about a minute later I got to thinking: “We haven’t had pizza for a while.” So I get up and go into the living room where his brothers were playing.

I ask them “Did one of you guys get lil shakes a pizza out of the fridge?” They both responded “No.”

So I asked my son: “Son, show daddy where you got the pizza” (he couldn’t quite talk yet) He immediately goes to the couch lifts up a cushion and points.

Me: :eek::eek::eek:

3

I’ve told this one before.

Ivygirl was about four or five and she’d come inside with muddy feet. I told her to go wash her feet off. She toddles off to the bathroom.

It got very very quiet. As any parent knows, that’s as alarming as a Klaxon siren on a submarine.

I go into the bathroom, where Ivygirl is sitting on the bathroom counter, feet in a sink full of water and soap bubbles, industriously scrubbing between her toes…with her brother’s toothbrush.

4

I love how she had the state of mind not to use her own toothbrush. :smiley:

5

I was carrying my friend’s three year old son from the restaurant we ate at to my car. I was giving her and her kids a ride home. The boy in my arms asked, “Are you coming to our house?”

“Yes.”

“Forever?”

Lil’ bastard made my day :slight_smile:

6

The other day I caught my three year old son drinking ranch dressing through a straw.

I thought it was funny, maybe you had to be there.

7

I was driving with my six year old the other day when she asked, "Mommy, how does the clicker know when you are going to turn?’

She (obviously) meant the turn signal.

8

When my son was about 3 or so he once pointed at my chest and asked, “When do I get those?” I chuckled and explained that only girls get breasts, boys don’t. He got all indignant and cried out, “But Pawpaw has them!”

Over my own laughter I heard my guffawing mother fall out of her chair in the kitchen while from down the hall the aforementioned Pawpaw yelled, “WHAT DID HE JUST SAY??”

It’s been 15 years and we still give him crap about that.

9

My girl, when she was about four, was big on word definitions, and explained to me, “Granny and Grandpa are ‘antique.’ That means they are old.”

One of my boys told the girl, “You don’t really need to wash your hands. Just lick them. Why am I licking my hands like a cat? Well, it’s faster.”

And one boy, when he was three or four, and in a penis-grabbing phase, had some adult jokingly tell him that if he kept yanking at it it might fall off. I was slightly horrified, since I know kids take things literally. But the kid thought a second, and then said if it did fall off, he’d put it under his pillow, and would grow a new, grown-up one. And that the penis fairy would leave money under his pillow. w00t!

10

When they were younger, my nieces Melissa and Jessica sure did love me. They’d hang all over me, sometimes to the point of hurting me. Jon, not so much. He loved his uncle, but was more into hitting than hugging.

One year I arrived at their house on Christmas Eve. Whomp. Mel And Jess were on me like metal filings on a magnet. We didn’t have time for a proper hello, we needed to go to a Christmas service at church. When we got there, I was flanked by Mel and Jess. It was almost embarassing.

The minister asked all of the children to come up to the front pew. Mel and Jon went. Jess refused. It would mean that she had to leave me, and that apparently was not an option.

The minister said “Tomorrow is Christmas. Do you know what that is? It’s a birthday party. It’s Jesus’s birthday! And what do we do at a birthday party? We have cake!” She pulled out a sheet pan full of cupcakes. Jess was up there in a flash.

So the kids ate while minister told the whole story of Mary, Joseph, Jesus, the inn, the manger, the whole smash. When she was done she asked “Does anyone have any questions?”

Jon’s hand shot up. “Can I have another cupcake?”

11

New ones happen every day.

I’ve posted this one before, but it bears repeating: the little Torqueling, currently age two and a half, was pulling a pillow off the chest at the foot of our bed. There were folded clothes on the chest as well, and clothes started falling on the floor as she pulled. “Uh oh,” I said, “you’re making a big mess! Momma’s not gonna be happy!”

She looked at me. “What?” I repeated what I’d said. “Okay,” she said, got her pillow, and happily trotted into the living room, where my wife was.

“Momma,” she said, “I made a big mess! Are you happy?”

Yeah, I know, completely my fault for the way I phrased it.

Other cute things: when she tries a new food or drink, she’ll usually take a bite or sip, lean her head back slightly as though in deep thought for a few seconds, and announce like a veteran food critic, “I like it.”

She throws her blanket over herself and me as we sit on the couch. This creates the “little house” for us to have tea parties in. But if there’s a hole in the little house, she’s apt to be attacked by “birdies” and “wormies”, which crawl in and tickle her.

There are some donkeys that live a few blocks away from us, and sometimes we walk or drive by to see them. We call them “burros”. The other day, after she did something at the house, I said something to the effect of, “You’re such a big girl!” She apparently misheard me, and responded in the most indignant voice you can imagine, “I’m not a burro!!” “No, I said ‘big girl’.” “Oh…”

12

RuffLlama is 3 1/2 now, and it seems he is saying something hilarious every day now. Our recent favorite:

He was singing some song he’d learned at his Christian preschool, and it went something like this:

RuffLlama: “God is SO BIG! God is SO STRONG! God is mumble somthing something for YOU and YOU and YOU!”

DeathLlama, excitedly: “Oooh, for me?”

RuffLlama, nonchalantly: “No. Someone else.”

I about fell off my chair trying to stifle my guffaws. RuffLlama was nonplussed and just continued about his dinner…apparently, to him, he was simply stating a fact.

Another one:
When we were potty training, I was trying to do the whole dress-a-favored-doll-in-underwear and have the potty trainee “teach” the doll how to use the potty. RuffLlama has a favorite Elmo doll that I put a pair of undies on, and I said, “RuffLlama! Help Elmo! Elmo needs to go potty.”

RuffLlama, furrowed brow: “No. No he doesn’t.”

Me: “Yes honey, he does.”

RuffLlama: “Mommy, Elmo no have penis. No can go potty.”

Me: “Well, uh…yeah, you’re right.”

Couldn’t argue with that logic.

13

Back when TurboPuppy was only 3 and TequlaShot was just born, we brought her home from the hospital. His babysitter had given him some toast to munch for breakfast before we got there.

We introduced the two of them, so to speak. He looked at her and decided “Baby needs toast!” before he jammed the toast crust into her confused mouth.

14

Ivyboy was three when his sister was born. The first night home from the hospital, she’s fussing a bit.

Ivyboy turns to his father and says, “Daddy, turn it off.”

Must have been an omen…Ivygril is a huge chatterbox. She’s been known to talk in her sleep.

15

A little older, as she’s eight now, but still a cute story. This past Sunday was when our church presented new Bibles, the Adventure Bible, to the 3rd graders. Big production at front of church, etc. After the service the kids, SS teachers, parents and our pastor, Chappell Temple (yes, that’s his real name), about a hundred persons in all, met to talk about what the bible means, not to to sit on shelf and look nice, it’s a tool to use throughout life, etc. He asked the kids if they knew where the books of the bible came from. One child raised her hand and said “Israel”, Good, good. Another said “Palestine.” Yes, that’s right. I was surprised to see my daughter raise her hand too. Pastor Temple called on her, she stood, pointed to the back cover of the book on the bottom left and said “ZonderKids.Com.”

16

This goes way back, as I was a small child myself at the time. There was a girl who was maybe two or three that went to our church. My father told her “You are a beauty!” She got mad and shot back “No, YOU da booty!”

Apparently this happened every week.

17

I was supervising the boys’ dorm at church camp – about 30-40 8- and 9-year-old boys. We were getting ready to do something outside, so I made all the boys spray on bug spray. If they didn’t have any, they could ask a neighbor to spray them.

So a boy named Matthew, who was adopted from Korea (this is important) as an infant, takes out a huge hokin’ can of bug spray and starts spraying down other boys. Eventually, a line forms at Matthew’s station.

ME: Matthew, that’s very kind of you sharing your bug spray with the other boys. Thanks.

MATTHEW: :smiley:

ME: I’ll bet you’re going to be an exterminator when you grow up.

MATTHEW: sigh No, I’ll probably just open up a laundry.

:eek:

18

My son was about 4, and I was quizzing him:

“What do we get when we freeze water?”
“Ice,” he answers promptly.
“Right. Now, what do we get when we *boil *water?”
He thinks for a second, then says, “Coffee!”

19

My daughter’s 3 in November - you know she’s asleep because she stops talking, it’s almost literally nonstop otherwise. This last Saturday we were taking a trip up the motorway and she said ‘look daddy, a crane!’. ‘No,’ my husband says (to my accompanying glares and ‘could you not leave it, just this once’) ‘it’s not a crane, it’s a tower’.

There was some argy bargy about the difference between cranes and mobile phone towers, and she eventually stopped arguing with him, and resorted to mumbling under her breath, obviously still believing she was right and he was wrong. This went on for a couple of minutes, then she obviously changed tack. ‘I’m going to sing my song, mummy’ she announced. She then proceeded to spin a tale through song, completely tunelessly and made up… all about the difference between cranes and towers. It included endless verses about how cranes and towers were almost the same, but you shouldn’t get them confused. It was the funniest thing I’ve ever heard - my husband and I sat in the front of the car desperately trying not to let her see how hard we were laughing.

My 2 year-old daughter, maintaining a fine tradition of rebellion through song - I like to think of her as the successor to the great English folk tradition :slight_smile:

20

When they were little, my brother-in-law taught his girls what various animals “said.” You know the drill:

Q (bro-in-law): What does a puppy say?
A (nieceling): Ruff ruff ruff.

Q: What does a kitty say?
A: Meow meow meow.

Q: What does a cow say?
A: Moooo.

Q: What does Keanu say?
A: Woah.

:smiley:

Hearing 2-year-olds give Keanu’s whoa is priceless. And seriously cute.