In line at a grocery store, my then-3-year-old brother once pointed at the black man standing behind my mom and him, and asked quite loudly,
“MOMMY! What’s THAT?!?!?”
My mom says she was quite embarassed, but the man just laughed and they gave a quick explanation about how many different people look different, etc etc.
Eating dinner with my dad, my sister, and my brother, in a fairly crowded, family-type restaurant, I pipe up, “Dad, what does ‘cunt’ mean?”
I don’t remember how old I was, or even where I heard the offending word; I can, however, recall every different shade of red that Dear Old Dad’s face turned after I asked.
For the record, he told later that it was a “very bad word” to say, especially when you are in public, eating dinner with your father. 
-Dirty
This is one of my Mom’s favorite stories about a time when she embarrassed her mom (my grandmother):
Mom was probably around five years old and was out grocery shopping with my grandmother. Apparently, the store was having a sale on feminine products, which was advertised with sign for “sanitary napkins.” Being the precocious little girl that she was, my Mom knew what “sanitary” meant, and she knew what napkins were, but wasn’t aware of what the two words meant together. Thinking that she was helping her mother save money, my Mom excitedly shouted, “Look, Mama! Sanitary napkins! We need those, don’t we? We should buy a whole bunch of sanitary napkins!” My grandmother was mortified.
We attended a pot luck dinner for the graduating newbie foster parents in our class. Everyone on their best behavior … we brought homemade lasagna to share … 3 year old daughter screams across the room, “mom - could i have some more vagina please?” You could’ve heard a pin drop …
:eek:
What is up with grocery stores??? When my daughter was a tot I listened to my pediatrician who recommended not giving my daughter “cutsie” names for body parts. Having recently heard a friend’s daughter refer to her genitalia as her binkie, the doc’s advice seemed logical…that is until we were wheeling through the canned vegetable isle and my little sweetie queried at the top of her lungs “Mom, does that man have a penis?” We “examined” several other fellas on the race back to the checkout with me praying there would be a female checker. And you know, I sure thought I parked the car in a space a whole lot closer to the store. 
My mom told me a story once, about a question I’d asked her.
I was 4 or 5 years old, and just watching TV in the living room. It was the Mike Douglas talk show…remember Mike Douglas? The free-wheeling Seventies, when people reeeeeally tried to push the risque envelope?
Anyway, my mom was in the kitchen making dinner, and she says that I came in to the kitchen and asked her what oral sex was. Apparently someone on the show had said something about it.
So. My mom, being the kind of person that believes that children’s questions about sex and their bodies should be answered with honesty, actually gave me the correct answer to my question.
But I was always a little advanced when it came to things like language–in other words, I knew what “oral” meant. So, my mom says that my response to her explanation was…“Oh. I thought it was just when you sat around and talked about it.”
I don’t remember any of this.
This is a great thread! My face is aching because of the huge grins!
When I was little (well, actually up until about eight years ago) my mother was a severe alcoholic. She and PBR were thick as thieves.
I didn’t realize this was a problem. I thought all mothers drank gallons of beer every single day. It wasn’t any big thing, to me. It was just everyday life.
Anyway, the one and only time in my life she came to my school to eat lunch with me, I managed to embarrass the living hell out of her.
It was first grade, and I was beside myself with joy she had deigned to show up. I introduced her to all the lunch-room ladies, my friends, most of the janitorial service and just about every teacher in the entire school. I was so proud she was there.
Once in the lunchroom, I helped her get her napkins and silverware, found the salt and pepper (that only the teachers and “special guests” could have) and led her to my table. Once we got there, my own teacher came over to introduce herself. At the exact same time, I realized my mother had nothing to drink with her meal, so I helpfully told her, “Mama, you’re going to have to drink tea like the teachers do. They don’t have beer at school.”
Mrs. Lyons pretended not to hear, and my mother merely cut a furious eye at me. My blood stopped running in my veins. It wasn’t my fault they didn’t serve beer!
I heard about it later though. Oh yeah…I really heard about it later.
My Older and younger sisters were going grocery shopping with my oldest sisters 3 year old. She was in the cart seat and they were passing a group of people when my 3 Yo niece says loudly, “You and Mommy shouldnt do drugs!!!” to which they responded, “we DONT do drugs!” and my niece says, “Yah Huh! Smoking and Drinking are DRUGS!!” well out of hearing reach of the people that originally heard… yea DARE… lol
“But mama, I wanna hear about the sperm!”
In church.
Story upon request.
I request it!
My grandfather was bald as captain Picard, but he also had a toupee or a wig or something. He looked SO different with it.
Until I was about 12, I thought I had an “Uncle Harry” (yes, the whole family was in on the joke, and my grandfather played the part.)
My dad’s second wife even thought that there was an Uncle Harry for at least a year.
iampunha!
Consider this an official request.
We’d recently come back from a ‘relaxed’ holiday in the south of France where many of the people at the campsite chose not to wear clothes. I’d learnt a new word.
My parents were having a meal with some guests from my fathers’ workplace and I must have been around 4 or 5.
Sat in the lounge after the meal I raise my arm, point and say “Are you a naturist too?”
OMG. I have no idea if that got back to his office…
Stooooo-ry, please!
Both my kids liked to blow out matches. This is how they used to ask usually very loudly:
“Mommy gimme blow! Gimme blow, please!”
C’mon, don’t be such a TEASE!!!
When my daughter was about 10 or 11 our work schedules were such that she was a latchkey kid for about 45 minutes or so. She was very responsible and trustworthy and grandma and grandpa were next door.
I told her to answer the phone if it rang because it might be me or her daddy but never to say that her parents weren’t home. I told her to say “my mom can’t come to the phone right now cause she is in the bath tub”. I figured this would buy me enough time to get home.
Well her younger brother who was about 4 or 5 then must have overhead cause one day I was home and in the bathroom when the phone rang. I heard my son answer it and just as I was taking the phone from him he said “my mommy can’t come to the phone right now cause she is in the bathroom pooping and it smells really bad too. Oh wait here she is”
I just took the phone and hung up.
When I was about three, my dad used to take me everywhere with him whenever he had to run errands. He’d often tell my mother, “Ok, I’m off to buy condoms now. See you later!” just to be a wiseass.
Well.
Picture us at the drugstore one day. Just as we’re about to leave, I ask, in a clear voice, “Daddy! Did you remember to buy condoms?”
My dad loved it and still tells that story. Weirdo.
[I don’t know what it is with my dad and condoms. Many, many years later, when he was at my place for a visit, he jokingly asked me where I kept my supply of condoms. I showed him where they were. I think I finally managed to embarrass the guy.]
iampunha,
Preety, pretty, pretty please with butterscotch and caramel and hot fudge and whipped cream and crumbled up cookie things and jimmies, please tell us the sordid and presumably funny details.
When I was about 5 or 6, I was at my grandparent’s house for a biiig dinner, and all the aunts, uncles, and cousins were there. My grandfather always said grace, and this day it was especially long winded. When he finally got around to “Amen”, I added, “I’ll drink to that!”
===============
My wife was in the hospital for quite a while, and my then 2 yo son spent a lot of time with my inlaws while I worked. One night, my son, my inlaws, and I were up to visit Mrs. Vunder, when she decided she needed out of the room so the entire herd escorted her to the gift shop. That happened to be pet therapy night, and the elevator opened up to a humunguous Irish Wolfhound. My son took one look and said “Hojee shit! that’s a big dog!” The response, in 5-part harmony, “he’s been spending too much time with papaw.”