“Get killed and come to supper!”
He was playing a video game.
Regards,
Shodan
Last night, as my 7 year-old daughter and I, dressed to the nines, entered a very swanky house for a music recital:
“Remember – no headbutting.”
“Dear, I’m very happy that you love H.M.S. Pinafore. But please turn it down. I’m trying to talk on the phone right now.”
“You have two choices. Either you take the disgusting medicine, or you don’t. But if you don’t, I don’t want to hear ONE word about how much your throat hurts.”
This situation was pretty strange to me because when I was a kid I loved the flavor of most medicines. My mom had to hid the childrens’ aspirin because I would sneak into it. But this is my daughter, who, until recently, had to be threatened with dire penalties before she would swallow any kind of medicine.
“No, I don’t think your teacher would like it if you played your Spamalot CD at the class party.”
I’ve got “Get to a save point.”
“Wow! That website has absolutely NOTHING to do with George Washington Carver!” (I had told my son to enter www. georgewashingtoncarver. com for a school report and a most definitely NSFW site popped up.)
“Drink your milk. Why? Because if you don’t you’ll get rickets and your legs will bow and you won’t be able to dance at your senior prom…THAT’S why.”
Fine, but if you fall off of there and break your leg, don’t come running to me!
“Do you even know what sodomy means?”
I gotta know - why was the dog green?
Because my daughter thought our Bichon would look better that way, of course! She was finger painting and he came up to her. She got down on the floor and started petting him. She liked how it looked and kept going. Of course, he wasn’t thrilled and tried to rub it off on the carpet. Thank God for for Stanley Steamer!
If I have to stop the car and come back there, you’re going to be sorry.
I think we’ve all been there.
“Do you act like that at school?” Oh, man, I hated hearing that come out of my mouth!
::: gasping for breath :::
I have no children, but reading this thread has me cracking up and I so desperately needed it. So, can one offer anecdotes from themselves as kids? If so, I’ve got two decent ones. If not, just zone out and skim on down. 
“Honey, do not make necklaces out of mommy’s tampons.”
“Honey, it is not your job to inform any repair men that mommy has false teeth.”
IANAP, but I have parents and I’m a much-older sister.
“When Mom got angry at us, she’d say ‘my grandchildren shall avenge me!’ Now I understand her.” sigh <- Dad
“I thought it was children who were supposed to stick metal things and fingers into plugs. You’re 20, at what age can I take the protectors out?” Mom, after Lilbro stuck a pair of scissors into a plug.
“If you don’t come eat this minute I’m unplugging it!” Mom to Lilbro, a minute before, yes, unplugging the computer.
“Why yawn is it that you two only pee your beds when Mommy an’ Daddy gone out, hm…” A very sleepy me, to my brothers, already fast asleep in my bed. Of course, one had peed his bed at 11:30 and the other at 1am. yawn
I haven’t laughed this hard in ages. (And I think I’ve started channeling my mother.)
“Why are your underpants on backwards?” (I swear to you, tag in the back, Y in the front, how difficult can it be? And yet…)
“You’re 11. And a boy. Boys don’t shave their legs and arms, unless they are swimmers or bodybuilders. Are you a swimmer or a bodybuilder? No? STOP DOING THAT.”
“Go outside and play. No, seriously. That’s sunshine. Remember sunshine? Go. Outside. Now. GO! I AM NOT KIDDING! MOVE! GO AND PLAY OR YOU ARE GROUNDED FOR A WEEK.” :smack:
(With apologies to Bill Cosby) “Was your head with you all day?”
(In response to repeated bouts of why when he was younger) “To make little boys ask questions.” This always worked better than “because I said so”, for some reason.
“Why are you not wearing a belt? Furthermore, why do we have this conversation every. single. day?” (Response, say it with me people, “I don’t know!”)
“Do you have homework? No? If I look in your bag, do you still not have homework? Right, that’s what I thought.”
“Gay does not mean stupid! Using gay that way sure does sound stupid, though! So quitit!” (The use of “gay” as a synonym for “dumb, stupid or annoying” is my largest recent pet peeve. He picks that crap up at school. I want to strangle all of year five except my kid. Because that’s the kinda mom I am.) 
Cheers,
G
Who really does have a great kid, smart, kind, funny…but has his moments…
Grandchildren are your reward for not strangling your teenagers.
“You are going to ride the roller coaster!” (Ivygirl had told her friend she would, then she chickened out. I used the opportunity to teach her the importance of keeping one’s word, and/or not saying you would do something you weren’t sure you wanted to do.)
“Why do you have six empty glasses in your room?”
“Please do not leave your laptop on the kitchen counter next to the stove while you are frying hamburgers.”
“Whatever you’re doing, STOP IT”
- said when hearing some unidentifiable sound that could NOT mean anything good.
“Whatever made you think that that was an acceptable thing to do???”
- One of many rhetorical questions we ask our kids.
And why, just why, is the Google ad for “Final Exits - Encyclopedia of how we die”??? :eek:
*“Spit it into my hand.”
“Did you wipe good? Here, let me look.”
“Yes Honey, DogDog is a Christian.”
“Sweetheart, Mommy’s not going to say “frikken” anymore and you shouldn’t either, okay?”*
Because we spend 10 months bringing 'em into this world, and they spend the next 20 years trying to take themselves back out before they grow brains.
We spend a year teaching them to walk and talk, and then 17 more trying to get them to sit down and shut up.
“If you don’t stop hitting the outhouse with the sledgehammer, I’m going to to hit your skull with the sledgehammer!”
Honestly, I just said this yesterday. See, last Saturday, there was a block party on my street. I allowed the Porta-potty to be set up in my side yard because my house is just about halfway down the block. It was my understanding that the Porta-potty would be removed Saturday night. Not! So, yesterday morning (no school because of election day), mudgirl, who is six, set up her little portable animal pen and took her menagerie out into the yard. This consisted of two guinea pigs, two gerbils and a box turtle. Taking the animals into the yard attracts all the neighborhood kids, one of whom I’m certain is Satan, reincarnated.
So, I’m hearing an ominous sound from the side yard, and I look out the window to see Damien hitting the Porta-potty door with a sledgehammer to make the “Occupied” sign change from green to red to green to red. . .and I holler the above statement out my dining room window. Damien, just for reference, is 14 freakin’ years old!
Then the following exchange takes place between Damien and I:
Me: Take that sledgehammer home!
D: I can’t.
Me: Why not?
D: It’s not mine.
Me: Whose is it?
D: I dunno. I found it in your yard.
Me: Put it up by the house right now.
D: Can I smash bricks with it?
Me: No.
D: I don’t mean the ones attached to the house. I mean ones I find laying around.
Me: No.
D: It won’t hurt anything.
Me: (showing the cordless phone through the window) Would you like me to call the police and see what they think about destruction of property?
Damien walks away, muttering something under his breath about “fat fuckin’ bitch”. :rolleyes:
We’re leaving! Did everyone go potty?
“Mommy, my tummy hurts.”
When was the last time you went poopy? :smack:
My son, when he was still young enough to go in the women’s restroom with whichever female relative was around, once loudly asked of his Grandma “Are you peeing or are you pooping?”
Yes, the restroom was quite crowded at the time.