My younger niece, A., has always been a tough kid. When she was about seven or eight, she related the following story to me:
“N [one of her cousins, a boy] wouldn’t stop picking on J [another cousin, girl], so I kicked him in the nuts.”
ME: “Why did you do that?”
A: “Because it was the only place available.”
She is now 14 and tougher than ever.
This one had me crying with laughter!
One time my twin sister and I (approximately five years old) were watching “Hawaii 5-O” with my mom, when one of the cops has to break the bad news to his friend that the girl he’s been dating has just been arrested “for soliciting.” My sister says, “Mom, what’s soliciting?” Before my mom can even begin to form an answer, I pipe in: “You know, it’s when you sell things door-to-door.” My sister replied incredulously, “His girlfriend got arrested for soliciting?” And I replied, "Well, it’s not allowed! You know how you see those signs that say “No Soliciting!” My mom just about died.
Another time I was watching TV with my cousin who was babysitting, when she changed the channel to find the movie “Chinatown” just as one of the characters says “I got my Ph.D. in oral sex.” She quickly changed the channel and prayed that I wasn’t listening, but suddenly I said:
"Martha…
…what’s a Ph.D.?"
When I was dating my wife before we got married, we went to a dinner of her extended family. Her niece asked me where I worked. I said I worked at Guide, but I was laid off. She took that in, and she asked, “When do you get laid on?” All the adults in the room got really quiet and looked at the ceiling. :rolleyes:
My daughter wants siblings desperately. She’s tired of asking me and the Mr. for one, though, so she has decided to go over our heads and start praying for one.
So she sits on the couch, folds her little hands and asks God.
Later I tell her “Honey, if you’re going to ask God for a baby you might wanna ask Him for the money we would need to raise another child.”
So she goes back to the couch, folds her hands again and prays “Dear God, thank you for today. Now gimme some money.”
That’s cute.
My boyfriend’s daughter was having a play at school and evidently the teacher had asked them all what their parents would like to drink, Coke, Diet Coke, or water. Lakota was telling him about it and he asked her which one she picked for him, she said, “I told them you’d have water, daddy, because they didn’t have Diet Rite.”
We just thought that was the funniest thing ever.
I’m often amazed at what comes out of my own mouth when I observe the GrizzCub doing something unusual.
One day, when he was about two-and-a-half years old, I caught him doing something he shouldn’t have and I was heard to exclaim…
“Did you just blow your nose on Mommy’s insoles?”
I’m sure that nobody has put those words together to form a sentence…EVER!
I was in the grocery store with Mrs. Dante, and we were in the pasta aisle. A woman with her 2 year old son is near us, and she drops a jar of pasta sauce.
SMASH!
Mess everywhere. Her son looks at the mess, then looks at her, totally deadpan.
“Nice one, beeyotch.”
You’ve never heard anyone SHRIEK laughter like my wife did at that moment.
Yesterday. Me and my anime-blue hair in the Home Depot paint isle. Off in the distance a super-loud 3 or 4 year-old voice: “THAT’S SILLY! That man’s got blue hair!”
I just smiled and chuckled to myself as mom said, “Well, maybe it’s not silly to him.”
Gotta love a child’s honesty.
When I was in 7th grade, my friend Matt told me this story:
He had two younger sisters and a younger brother.
One day when he was a little kid, and in front of the Wee Sibs, he asks his mom, “Mom, what’s a blow job?”
Mom turns white. Shuffles younger siblings out of the room. Sits my friend Matt down and explains what a blow job is. (Imagine mom being verrrrrry sensitive to Little Matt. Being open. Being honest. Wanting Little Matt to have a healthly understanding and lack of fear about sex. It was the 70’s after all.)
Return with me now to a 7th grade science room. Matt can’t help howling with laughter when he wraps up with…
“I thought it was a hairdo!!!” :eek:
I thought of a couple more things that Tony has come up with.
When he was about 4, former president Nixon died. On the day of his funeral all the federal offices were closed, so that day when we got home from work/day care I didn’t check the mail box like I normally did. Tony noticed the change in routine and questioned me on it. “Well,” I said, “President Nixon died, so today they didn’t deliver any mail.” Tony’s eyes got big and he said, “Was HE our mailman?”
When he was really small and just starting to talk, he went through a period where he watched a lot of basketball on TV with his father. They were always watching Micheal Jordan, and Tony would say “buh-baw!” when ever he saw a basketball player. It got to the point, though, that he started to point and say “Buh-baw! Buh-baw!” every time he saw a black man. I remember being in a store and Tony seeing a young black man with a shaved head, and he started shouting and pointing, “Buh-baw! Buh-baw!”
I was glad when basketball season ended so I could take him out in public without being embarrassed.
This one cracked me up (from Interconnections, Second Edition ):
When my son was three I saw him in the hallway crying, holding up his hand, saying, “My hand! My hand!” I took his hand lovingly and kissed it a few times and said, “What’s the matter, honey? Did you hurt it?” He sobbed, “No, I got pee on it.”
The topic was protocol design, particularly the merit of “Knowing the problem you’r trying to solve”
My brother is a cop, and one day called home from the office just to see how things were going. My niece did the “Daddy, what are you doing RIGHT NOW?” routine, and he said he was eating a (yeah, yeah, I know, but it’s true) a doughnut.
Later, he came home with a pretty nasty red mark on his forehead, and told how he was chasing a perp on foot, tried to clear a fence, and slipped, hitting his head.
Niece shakes her head sadly and replies, “Shouldn’t have had that doughnut.”
I love the Nixon-the-mailman one, but this anecdote reminds me of something I did. I was probably 3 or 4 at the time (early 1970s), and my mom had taken me out shopping. We lived in a predominantly white town, so it was somewhat rare that we encountered black people (or people of any other race, for that matter) at the time, but on this particular shopping trip, we passed a black man in a store. My response was to say, “Who’s that cat?” while looking at him. My mom was kind of embarrassed, but I gather the man laughed good-naturedly at this little white girl speaking '70s “jive” lingo, which I probably got from some TV show.
When my kids were very little my daughter tortured my son unmercifully. As soon as he learned to walk he got his revenge. she would be playing quietly somewhere, he would run up to her pull her hair and run away.
When my daughter was five, I had told her at least three times to go pick up the mess she’d made in the living room and each time she completely ignored me and continued whatever it was she was doing at time. When I said it again, my daughter, without looking up or cracking a smile, said:
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth is not available at this moment. If you would like to leave a message at the beep, she’ll get back to you as soon as she is able. Beeeeeeeep!”
She’s tried this on a few occasions since then but it’s never nearly as amusing at it was that first time.
Last year I called my mom on her birthday. While I was on the phone, my not-quite-four year old grandson, who was living with us at the time, wanted to talk, so I handed him the phone. I said “It’s Grandma G. – tell her happy birthday”, so he says “Happy birthday!” Then I say, “Ask her how old she is”, so he says, “How old are you?” He listens for a moment, then he turns to me and says,
“She’s sixty-four. She’s gonna *be tired * next year.”
Nothing is quite so loud as a child’s voice in a crowded grocery store, yes?
3 years old, in the produce aisle, as I’ve got my hands full of tomatoes. “Mommy?” “Mmmhmmm.” “You know what?” “Hmmm?” “Mommy, sometimes my penis gets really big!” :eek:
I swear, the entire produce section turned dead silent as all eyes turned to my little angel.
Just last week (he’s now 11) I told him I was changing my name to that of my husband, explaining that he can take his name as well or keep his own. “So, you’re going to be WhyNot Husband’sName?” “Yep.” Silence. Processing. “Well, I’m still going to call you MOM!”
When my nephew was about 10 he wrote his first fantasy short story. The story kept talking about “trollops”. When I laughed and asked him what they were he said “female trolls, of course!”.
StG
Okay, I’m not so embarrassed at my story. I was about two or so, and my mom had taken me to the grocery store - it was somewhere around 1977 or so. We had gone down an aisle, I was following next to the cart, and all of a sudden, she heard me scream “Daddy!”. I ran down the aisle to where a tall black man was doing his shopping, and threw my arms around his legs, hugging him tightly.
My father is a very blond German man.
The man laughed at me, told my mom I was cute, and my mom finished the rest of her shopping, highly embarrassed. Luckily, the guy had a sense of humor.
The other story my dad LOVES to tell is the one where my parents and I, around three, were on a boat with my grandma in Florida. My dad was driving the boat, Mom and Grandma were talking. Then Grandma decided to give Dad a hard time about smoking cigarettes. She continued to yell at him, and finally said:
“Why do you have to smoke? It’s terrible for you! Why? Karen (my mom) doesn’t smoke!”
So then little me pipes up “Uh-huh! Mommy smokes! I saw her with that little cigarette last night and she was smoking it!”
The entire boat went silent. I don’t think my mother ever smoked weed again. And my dad tells this story any time he gets the chance:D.
One my mom just passed on to me tonight - my neighbor’s three-year-old had hernia surgery last week. Very brave little guy and we’re all proud of him. My mother was standing in the front yard earlier, little Tristan was in his front yard. He saw my mom and called to her, then yelled at the top of his lungs: “Mrs. Karen! Guess what?? I don’t have a hernia anymore!!!”
I love little kids. These stories are absolutely killing me. I can’t wait to have kids and add my own.
Ava
Had he ever read Robert Aspirin? He calls a female troll a trollop in his “Myth” series.