Someone beat me to “daddy drinks because you cry”.
Other than that, all I’ve got is:
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Wind is trees sneezing.
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You are the reason mommy and daddy don’t love each other.
To his club-footed son said Lord Stipple,
As his consumed his post-prandial tipple:
“Your mother’s behavior
Gave pain to Our Saviour,
And that’s why God made you a cripple.”
As, Edward Gorey … . 
You were adopted.
You were left on our door by circus freaks.
Mom and Dad had to adopt you as punishment for a crime they committed. (They killed a Nun)
Dogs can talk, but only if they really like you.
Oh, oh, I’ve got another math one! My dad did this to me…
Get a kid that has just learned to add. Tell him he’s got eleven fingers. Then you demonstrate it.
Hold up both hands. As quickly as possible, count off the fingers of one hand backwards - “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six… okay, six plus five is eleven, right?” 
The trick is to do it fast and smooth. It usually takes a couple of run-throughs before they figure it out. 
Kidcat: Where’s mommy?
Me: She left us forever and is not coming back. (Said very quickly)
Kidcat: Wha-huh?!?
Me: I said she is in the bathroom. (or went to the store or ???)
Cottage cheese is so-called because it’s scooped out of the eavestroughs of little houses in the woods in the autumn.
On Family Guy, Peter goes to buy a book for potty training Stewie. The book seller says, “Everybody Poops is still the standard, but we also have Nobody Poops But You.”
Peter says, “Aah, well, we’re…ah…Catholic.”
The book seller says, “Oh! Well you’ll want You’re a Naughty Child and That’s Concentrated Evil Coming Out the Back of You.”
I learned this in a book by Penn & Teller. I’ve done this more than once when I’ll be eating lunch in close company with several children.
You’ll need a fairly large orange and an apple that’s well smaller than the orange.
Take the orange and carefully cut a slice in the peel from top to bottom and remove the peel so as to leave it almost completely intact. Then, insert a whole apple into the skin of the orange. Put it into your lunchbag and wait.
Then, while eating lunch with them, make a great fuss over peeling the orange; tear at the skin with your teeth and grunt as you pull bits of it away, slowly exposing the apple inside. Make sure that you’re noticed by as many children as possible. Make sure that you leave the bits of orange flesh conspicuously strewn about. Then, once it’s “peeled”, eat the apple.
Make no mention of how or why an apple can out of an orange.
If questioned, say that they’ve ALWAYS been like that.
If they ask about the REAL inside of an orange, look surprised and tell them they’re just making it up.
Years ago I convinced one of my sons that I was a MAD Agent. The lad was a big Inspector Gadget fan at the time.
Tell your kid that there really is a Boogeyman, and it lives in his closet.
My older brother and sister did something like this to me.
Me: Where’d Mom go?
Them: She ran away because she didn’t like you.
Oooooooh, that is just mean…a toilet is a sanctuary! Have you no sense of morals… or are you brilliant enough to have them learn not to sit on throne for too long…
( You could use a snake and then have them read/watch Harry Potter.)
I was never mean to my kid, but I did mess with his head anyway.
“Dad, why are the really old movies black and white?”
“Because the whole world was black and white until 1965…”
“Dad, what causes thunder?”
“The angels are bowling.”
“Dad, what causes lightning?”
“Grandma and Grampa in heaven, fighting.”
When he was small, my son had an obsession with a nearby Army Navy store. One afternoon, as he was pestering me non-stop, we heard sirens from fire and rescue vehicles. I told him it was because some nerve gas canisters had leaked at the A-N store. He quit pestering me.
I thought he’d just given up because his mom was crazy but some days later my husband asked him if he wanted to go by the store. I nearly peed myself when he asked if the nerve gas was all cleared up.
Eating raw potatoes gives you worms.
My mom said this and I didn’t learn otherwise until I was in high school. Gullible to a fault.
Scene: McDonalds, 1985. Cute little family with an adorable little 4.5 year old girl (me) and wee infant. Cute little old people sitting near by are cooing over the little baby and impressed with the little girl’s manners. Everything is rosy and wonderful.
**
Dad**: **Little Little Bird, make sure to eat your hamburger crusts. It’ll put hair on your chest.
**Little Little Bird: But Dad, I’m a girl! Girl’s don’t get hair on their chests!
Mom and Dad and little old people sitting near by chuckle at the cute **Little Little Bird’s observations. Baby gurgles. Everything is still rosy and wonderful.
Minutes pass. **Little Little Bird thinks. Then, in the kind of gleefull piercing outdoor voice that only a 4.5 year old who is about to say something really inappropriate can muster, **Little Little Bird exclaims:
I know! When little girls eat their crusts they get hair on their vaginas!
I think the little old couple had strokes.
Are you by an chance named after the Anais Nin short story?
In 9th grade, it fell to me to explain to a 14-year-old classmate that eating candy doesn’t give you tapeworms. Her mother just told her that because she didn’t want her eating candy.
When I was 14 or 15, my sister was 9 or 10. We heard The Beatles’ “Eight Days a Week” and she questioned the song’s math, so I explained that the Beatles were British and in Britain they have the metric system, so their weeks last eight days. She almost fell for it.
You could also try telling them that Santa Claus, guardian angels, and Jesus are real, and all of them watch you to see whether you’re behaving yourself. THAT won’t place any interesting theological questions in their minds later, no sir.
Heh, heh. My brothers were in High School in the late 60’s. They were smoking dope in their room and covering the smell by burning incense; my parents, being the passive-aggressive non-confrontational types that made me the shy, quiet, introverted geek I am today, didn’t want to just come out and tell them not to smoke dope, particularly because it wouldn’t have worked.
So my mom told them she’d rather they didn’t burn incense, because it made her sneeze.
Rats, they figured. We can’t smoke dope without covering the smell. So they stopped. Stopped smoking at home, anyway…
Fast-forward fifteen years. My parents have returned from a trip to Germany where they bought some wooden statue incense burners. You pull the torso off of the legs, there’s a little metal dish. You put an incense cone on the metal plate, light it, put the torso back on and the smoke comes out the mouth so it looks like the wooden guy is smoking. My parents have these things going non-stop.
My brother says, “Hey, I thought incense makes you sneeze!”
My mom says, “No, we just told you that to get you to stop smoking dope in the house.”
My brother: :eek:
This was an odd moment for me. My friend’s son had gotten to the age where he was starting to sound out words, make small, noncomplex sentances… That sort of thing. Anyway, for years previous, I’d told my friend I was going to teach his son all the wrong definitions for words.
That particular day the three of us were in the kitchen, and the boy’s babbling away telling us about his day in play-group. We’re half-listening. I bring up the ‘wrong definition’ thing again, and demonstrate: “For instance, one day he’ll ask me what a dromedary is, and I’ll tell him it’s a turtle.”
Out of nowhere, the boy pauses, looks quizically at me, and says, “That’s a camel, isn’t it?”
:eek:
I look at papa, “Did you teach him that?”
“Not me! Hey, where did you learn that?”
The boy just gave us his best ‘I know something you don’t know’ smile. He never ever told us, and left us dumbfounded.