Granted, I think all of my kids are brilliant and funny and good-looking (take after their mom, you know,) but I’m still giggling about Lily’s latest:
Lily is 3. She’s about as 3 as three can be, and frequently a giant pain in the neck, and has no fear, nor any qualms about telling fibs or screaming like a banshee or blaming her 18-month-old sister for getting the bag of flour down and pouring it all over the living room. She also has an amazing vocabulary, is very “numerate” (is that a word?) an a great imagination. Charming, no?
Last night, I served pasta for dinner. Lily was fascinated with everyone’s methods for twirling the noodles up on their forks. Being an observant and somewhat evil little child, she also noticed a resemblance between those twirly noodles, and Mommy’s twirly, curly hair. Next thing I know, the fork is inching toward my tresses. I tell Lily that no, she’s not allowed to twirl her fork in my hair. Her reply?
When my son was 10, he discovered our old record collection in a cabinet. He was fascinated by the albums and their cover art, and I was explaining to him these large disks were the primary recording medium of my era.
Holding an LP in his hand, his only comment was: “Wow, the slot in your dashboard must’ve been huge!”
The other day my 3 YO granddaughter saw a commercial for Edible Arrangements on TV. This is a product that is made of fruit and chocolate that looks sort of like a bouquet of flowers.
She could barely speak for excitement when she told me about it. “I’ve never seen anything like that in my whole life! It was wonderful!”
From my older son’s 3-year-old days a couple of years ago:
We dropped his younger brother off at his (younger brother’s) day care. As I was buckling him back into his car seat, I pointed out the Chevy Silverado parking next to us. I said “Look! It’s a pickup truck!” He said “No, it’s a drop-off truck.”
Same setting, a few weeks later. He turned his head sideways and I noticed some brown crud in his ear. I said “Hey, you have wax in your ear.” He said “No, it’s only one whack.”
Reminds me of the time my then-3-year-old niece found my old 45s, and asked what kind of CDs they were. If I felt old then, imagine how I feel now that she’s 22 and married!
I remember when my oldest son was just learning to play video games.
He was playing one of those games that had a “life Bar”. He got himself stuck somehow in the video game and his life was steadily draining to zero. at this point he yelled: “Ah man!! I’m wasting my life!”
To the innocent onlooker, it sounded like a 4yo boy was having a moment of existentialism, angry at the fact that he’s wasting life life playing video games.
My husband was a sort of driveway mechanic, doing who-knows-what to the only car we owned, way back then. Our son was allowed to ride his trike in the living/dining area, as he was skilful at maneuvering it around furniture. More than once, he turned it upside down and worked the pedals with his hands, muttering, “sons a bits, sons a bits!” – a fair representation of his dad, in the driveway
I was helping a friend panel his basement when his 2½ year old son came down. His eyes were welling with tears and his bottom lip was sticking out a mile. I asked him what was the matter and, in a voice filled with righteous indignation, he told me that his older sister had hit him back!
I patted him on the back and pointed him to where his father was working.
I am a fairly young grandma (46). My 3 year old granddaughter brought me an Ensure-like drink the other day and asked me if she could have it. I told her, “no, Honey, that’s for REALLY OLD people”. Her reply…“oh, here Gramma, you better have it then!”.
These are priceless! evasgram, your story reminds me of when Boy 1.0 was at that stage of telling everyone his age. We had gone to a family gathering, and he greeted his grand-aunt with “Hi.I’m William, and I’m 3 years old!” Her reply: “I’m Aunt Irma, and I’m 65 years old.” Him, eyes as big as saucers: “Wooooow!”
Same gathering, Girl 1.0 was about two, with all that entails. I took her to see my grandma, who was a darling to us grandkids, and to children in general, but was known for her Irish/redhead temper and her stubbornness. When I asked Erin to say hello, she folded her arms, turned her back, and plopped down with a resounding “no!” Grandma saved the moment with the statement “I couldn’t tell you her name, but I know that one’s mine.”
Same girl, around the same time. We were playing the “What sound does [animal] make” game, and I thought I’d fool her by asking what a rabbit says. Her immediate answer: “Going and going and going and going.”
My daughter was 10. She had been playing in my D&D campaign for a year, and knew the basics of the races and classes and fantasy worlds and such. She’s working on a report for school one day…
Daughter: What do you call those people who live in the forest and take care of trees?
Me: Druids.
Daughter: (audible :rolleyes: ) In the real world?
Me: Oh. Sorry. um… Rangers.
Daughter: FINE! I’ll go look it up myself!
Exit daughter stage left.
Me: no, really, park rangers, forest rangers… that’s why they call them that…
My five-year old, knowing that Grandpa would turn eighty and that eighty is very old, and that old people may die, came up with a great idea. "After you turn eighty, you just stop counting! "
