Came upon three third-graders arguing on the playground, looking and sounding much like college philosophy students. One of them was in the middle of a spiel:
“You’ve never seen air, have you? But you can see the effects of the air when it moves the trees. You don’t have to see Him to believe in Him.”
“But it’s really just some stories that your parents and other adults tell you to get you to behave.”
“That doesn’t mean the stories aren’t true. All those people are just helping us understand the truth.”
I listened, curious, as the young, earnest boy continued trying to convince his skeptical audience for another minute, using arguments I had heard many times in various venues, more than a little impressed at how well he defended his unpopular opinion. Finally, one of the boys says, “Let’s ask Mr. Six.” Before I could think of some way to effectively avoid the question, the Believer turned to me and asked, with deadly seriousness “Mr. Six, is Santa Claus real?”
When my mom was 5 years old, each little kids in her Sunday School got up before the congregation and sang a favorite hymn they had chosen. My mom, dressed in her frilly dress, shiny black maryjane shoes, and her dark hair in ringlets, marched up on the podium (her parents beaming with pride) and belted out that old cowboy song "Blood on the saddle, blood on the ground. . . ".
When my oldest son was 3 years old, he saw Dione Worwick on TV. He got real excited, pointed and said “Look! Mommy on TV! Daddy, why mommy on TV?” Then he said, “Daddy, why mommy on TV all dirty?” We laughed our asses off, but never did figure it out. I’m white and had almost waist length blonde hair at the time.
This is the same kid who learned the word “constipation” (those damn television commercials) almost before he learned to say “mama”. People in shops would compliment me on how cute he was and then he would hollar “CONSSSSSSSSS-TI-PAAAAAA-TIIIIIIIION”! Cashiers would always fawn over him and he would reply “CONSSSSSSSSS-TI-PAAAAAA-TIIIIIIIION!” We dressed him all up and took him to show off at grandma’s work.
One night several weeks ago, several people and I were hanging out I was at a friend’s apartment. My friend has two daughters, Erica (3) and Diana (5), who we have all decided are the most adorable little girls in all creation. The problem is they know how darn cute they are and use it to their FULL advantage. It being the end of the evening, I was saying my goodbyes when little adorable Erica toddled up, looked up at me with these huge blue eyes, and said, in perfect earnestness, with this big smile…
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!”
I damn near fell over.
(Apparently, her five-year-old sister’s favorite expression is ‘You want a piece of me?’ What’s my buddy TEACHING these kids?)
I was on board an airplane that was in the process of being backed away from the terminal and getting in line to taxi down the runway. It was, of course, taking a long time. There was a man with two children sitting a few rows in front of me. One of the kids was being really quiet; the other was asking his dad all sorts of typical kid questions–“Why is the sky blue,” “How does the plane fly,” “How do birds sing,” etc. After nearly five minutes of the kid’s questions and the dad’s patient answers, we finally had silence. Suddenly, the kid asked (in a voice loud enough to be heard through most of the cabin):
At the museum that I work at we have a rather popular children’s section. While I work in the theater section, I will occasionally take over a shift or two in the kids gallery. While working there I hear the strangest things. The one that pops to mind immediately has to be
"That’s not a spaceship, that’s a goat".
I just caught it over the general hub-bub, and it cracked me up. It was just so surreal.
Theological conversations with my 6 year old stepdaughter can be very interesting, she has developed some interesting ideas about life after death, which include telescopes in heaven and zombies. She is also obsessed with figuring out who is going to die first - which is always who was born first, she has the ages of everybody we know categorized and talks about who is going to be waiting for who in heaven (while their bodies rise from the grave, incidentally). When she found out my wife is a couple of years older than me, she told me that I shouldn’t remarry after her mother dies because I was going to die in a couple of years anyway.
What’s really weird is when she pretends to talk to people on the phone - she pretends so well that if you didn’t know that it was a toy phone you would never guess she WASN’T talking to someone. She pauses appropriately between questions, occasionally asks the imaginary person to repeat themselves, changes facial expressions while listening, responds to the questions that you know the person she pretends she is talking to would ask - you can just tell that she is hearing the other side of the conversation.
This one has puzzled me for years…
When our Grandfather died, my cousin Stacey was only 3 years old. Sitting with her during the afternoon, we didn’t think she knew what was going on, but she suddenly turned to my brother and I and asked “Is Poppy dead?”. We looked at each other, and didn’t know what to say. My brother replied gently “Yes, Stace, he is”. She said “Oh”, and seemed to ponder this for a minute before she looked up and asked “Did Tuppy bite him?”.
Why she would think that Poppy’s darling old dog would bite him and thus cause him to die is beyond me.
A couple of years ago, my husband had to have his gall bladder removed. I told my kids about it after he had had the surgery, since he was staying in the hospital overnight and wouldn’t come home until the next day.
The next morning, my (then) 3 year old son and I drove to the hospital to pick my husband up. As soon as I pulled into the hospital parking lot, my son asked in a curious (though not very upset sounding) voice “Who killed him?” I guess he had assumed that anyone in the hospital must be dead — although he knew that the place was a hospital because every time we drove by there I told him that that was the place he was born.
Well, I said it, and it’s not real odd, just humorous–
When I was about 3, I dissapeared for a little while. Everyone, sisters, uncles, grandparents, neighbors, etc., was searching for me. Finally, someone thought to check the park, 5 blocks away, and across a busy street with a light. Of course, that’s where I was, riding around on my big wheel. (Do they still make those? They kicked ass!) My mom asked how I got across High St. ‘I pushed the button and waited for the light to turn,’ I replied, probably rolling my eyes. DUH.
I once drank most of the bottle of Triaminic, and had my stomach pumped at the hospital. Afterwards, whenever we went by, I’d let everyone know that they made me throw up in there.
I’d also go around showing people my hernia scar.
All good reasons to be extra kind to mom this weekend.
My almost 4-year-old is very quick to pick up new words and phrases from books and TV. Yesterday she was out at lunch with her dad when she suddenly looked up from her plate of calimari (she likes the tentacles best) and said:
What about the rest of the Teeming Millions? Anyone else have a similar story to tell?
I started going to a Montesori school(sp?) when I was a year and a half old. During that time, I also had periods in which my aunt and older cousins cared for me, instead of my mom. One time, not long after I was taught the body parts, I enter my aunt’s house proud and sure of myself and say (according to her): “Men have a penis, and women have a vagina”. Made her and all my cousins laugh. I do not remember that incident…strangely, I have forgotten almost all the embarrassing moments I had when I was younger.
A few weeks ago, my dad and I took my 6-year old niece out to play Putt-Putt golf. I happen to be a victim of male-pattern baldness, and as I was bending over to pick my ball out of the cup on one hole, she started patting the top of my head. I smiled at her and said “Hey, watch it, I’m going bald and you’ll make the rest of my hair fall out.” She smiled right back and said “Yeah, I know, I can already see a circle on your head.” Smartass.
As I was driving my five-year-old nephew home, he asked, “What would happen if this car went way up in the sky?” Being the extraordinarily non-creative, literal-minded person that I am, I replied that cars can only drive on the road.
He asked me again, “But what would happen if this car flew up in the sky?” I insisted that airplanes fly in the sky, cars drive on the road.
By this time he was losing patience. “PERI, I’M ONLY TALKING! WHAT WOULD HAPPEN…etc.” Suddenly enlightened, I said we would be up with the clouds and birds. He said, “Oh,” and happily went on to the next topic.
I was visiting my husband at work when his office when his office manager put her 4 year old nephew on the speakerphone because he was so cute, or so she thought.
“Hi, Mark.” she said.
“Hi auntie Mo.” he answered.
“What are you doing?” Mo asked.
“I’m playing with my weiner!” he answered.
To this day “I’m playing with my weiner” is code for “none of your buisness” between me and my husband.
My youngest nephew could not make the sn- sounds in words until he was 4. Instead of the sn- noise he’d use t. Therefore according to Craig, it wasn’t snowing, it was towing and so on.
One day I’m watching him and he wants to watch one of his Snoopy or as he called him,Toopy,videos. He had about five of them and I was trying to narrow dwon exactly which one he wanted to watch.
He gets frustrated and yells…"the one of Toopy and Tupac (meaning Woodstock).I got a visual of Snoopy and Tupac hanging at the doghouse,sharing a 40.
Growing up, I lived in the same town with several of my cousins, but we still didn’t see them all that often. At the same time, my father was rarely there when we were-either at work or sailing with my brothers, something like that.
My father is not a small man-he’s tall and big. On one occasion, perhaps a Christmas, we were all at my grandmother’s house. When my aunt and uncle arrived with their kids, my cousin saw my father and ran to her mother. She then pronounced in a stage whisper:
“Mommy, that man is here!”
My young nephew visted me last Christmas with a Tamagochi (sp?). For some reason, it wasn’t working properly. One day apparently frustrated with trying to get it to work properly he says “He won’t play with me because it’s too cold.” I laughed my ass off.
This one isn’t really funny but… I was at the store and I overheard a six year old girl singing the Scooby Doo theme song. I got to thinking that because of the Cartoon Network a whole new generation of people will grow up being nostalgic about 60’s cartoons!
My neighbors have four children, they’re really nice kids and occasionally I’ll talk to them. I’ve become friends with one the boys, who’s about six, his name’s Muhammed (they’re muslim- a side note, the two little girls where scarves over their hair and long skirts over, you guessed it, hot pink bell bottoms and nikes).
Anyway, this afternnon I was outside in my backyard and Muhammed’s dog, Max, runs into the yard followed by muhammed. Muhammed has a slight stutter, so I really have to strain to listen to what he says. And, god, how this kid can talk. He plops down next to me, and chatters away about everything from Max scaring his cat in the tree again (once I had to help him get it down) to his best friend Adam still being asleep (he had stayed the night last night). Suddenly Muhammed jumps up and starts peering into the peach tree in my yard. “What vegetable’s this?” he asks pointing to one of the not quite ripe peaches. I tell him its a peach tree (I was still half asleep and not really in the mood to explain that its a fruit tree). He picks one of the peaches off the ground and bites into it, He turns to me with his mouth gaped open with peach particles and spit dripping from his teeth (which are crooked and half of them are in the process of growing back from being pulled). He, in a panic, looks around and spots an empty tuna can in the yard (From where I had fed a cat) and spits the peach in it. I don’t know why he just didn’t spit it on the ground, I guess he didn’t want to litter… This is indeed a strange little kid, but I’m gonna miss him, when I move back home for the summer.
I’m from a rural area, and never had any neighbors…so I was thrilled when I saw that a house full of kids were next door. And it kind of sucks that I’m living in a dorm next semester…no more kid neighbors, sigh.
Once I was sitting in a public restroom stall and this woman comes into the stall next to me with a little kid. I guess the kid was just old enough to be getting potty trained because when the toilet got flushed, the kid goes “BYE BYE POOPIE!!! BYE BYE PEEEE!!!”
Warning: not quite gratuitous references to my home state ahead.
Back when our son was three, he would usually crawl into our bed in the night. One Sunday morning as we were waking up, he sat up, head wobbling, opened his eyes, focused, looked squarely at me and said “Let’s go to Texas.”
We live in Austin, almost smack dab in the middle of the state.
I asked him what Texas was. “It’s a (arms flung wide) BIG outdoor place!”
I told him we were already in Texas.
“No we aren’t. It’s… (pointing out window) over there!”
The rest of the day was spent driving through the country to visit relatives, as my son alternately denied that we were in Texas and pointed in various directions to where he thought Texas was. My wife reworked the Lyle Lovett song, singing "That’s right, you’re not in Texas, but Texas wants you anyway!
