The wondrous thing about “my kid is driving me crazy” stories is how normal your kids suddenly are.
We have the “my brother just got in trouble two and a half seconds ago for this - let’s see if there is a transitive property to that rule” issue.
We have the “you’ll get hurt jumping on the couch…you’ll get hurt jumping on the couch…bam…waaaahhhh…what happened…I was jumping on the couch” problem too.
ITA!
Their latest trick is “I’ll never get to ___ .”
As in, if I say no to anything, at any time, for any reason (“No, you can’t play with Play-Doh right now, you can do it when Jackie and Timmy get here in 2 hours”) they whine and carry on that they NEVER get to X.
No matter what I say, what explanations I give, what promises I make (that I’m very careful to keep, I have an excellent track record with my promises), they NEVER get to X.
NEVER.
Ever.
Drives me batshit.
My brother’s younger daughter–age 2–comes downstairs an average of once per night, five minutes after being tucked into bed, wishing him to carry her back to bed.
Once a week or so, she doesn’t come down. Once a month or so, she tests to see if the rule that she gets one and only one free trip downstairs is still in place. Her older sister almost never comes down.
But the reasons why my niece comes down stairs are really kind of amusing–in an eye-rolling fashion. She wanted to see what movie we were watching (a football game–one of the bowl variety, no one minded when it got turned off). Mommy failed to blow her one last kiss. She needs a drink of water. Sister needs a drink of water. You name the excuse, she’s used it at least once.
They haven’t tried real hard to crack down on this habit, in part because carrying her back to bed once a night isn’t really a hardship. But it does seem to predict future arguments with niece wanting the last word.
My son was that way too, until the day he knocked that jar of jelly off the shelf at the grocery store and it broke. He was devastated. Inconsolable. To this day, all I have to do is say, “Remember the jelly?” and he is traumatized.
This reminds me of something my parents still like to tease me about.
Me: throws Tonka truck down stairs
Dad: Stop throwing your toys down the stairs!
Me: throws Castle Greyskull dowwn stairs
Dad: I told you not to throw toys down the stairs!
Dad: hears more thumping, gets up to investigate, while yelling Og, damn it, how many times do I have to tell you not to throw your toys… finds me in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, as I had just fallen down them
::Models ‘Been There’ teeshirt:: My picky eater who blanched at the sight of salad is now a confirmed vegan at the age of 24. :rolleyes:
Man, you guys are making me happy I’m through with that crap (and into new kinds of crap) now that my youngest is 16!
A tangent: My daughter is the only meat eater in her entire group of friends. That does cause some issues - if one of her pals is particularly vocal about how eeeevvviillll The Kid is for gnawing on Bossie MooCow, she will decide not to eat beef for a week… rendering the planned pot roast / meatloaf / whatever off the menu. sigh So she’s not only picky on her behalf, but on her friends’ behalf.
When I was little I loved playing in the dirt. I had a favorite spot to dig - the middle of the walkway path to the garage. My dad would refill it, growling at me to stop it as someone would get hurt (“And it’s NOT going to be ME!”).
After I sprained my ankle the third time, twisting it when I ran down the path and my foot stuck in the hole, they paved it.
Yes, my dad DID laugh at me. Often.
I wish that would work with my 3 year old. He broke a big jar of pickles at the supermarket, and now spends his time trying to break something else. My six year old likes to pick up breakables and say, “mom is this plastic?”
They’re 2 boys, 2 1/2 years apart, so of course they spend much of their time jumping on each other. And we tell them that someone will get hurt, and then someone does and there is much crying and application of ice–and then they go right back to jumping on each other. Until the next one starts crying and we start over again.
And the adults’ brains are totally mush. My husband, who used to sing Bob Dylan and Graham Parker songs, now sings children’s songs exclusively. Good thing Laurie Berkner writes such catchy songs. And "what were we talking about?"is our most common sentence. Well, that and, “daddy can’t talk to you right now, he’s on the phone.”
I’m tellin’ ya, el, military school. The second they hit 13.
Conversation on the way home last night:
"Okay, but you SAAAIIID ‘obliviate.’ "
"Alright, but you KNOOOW I meant ‘obliterate’ "
“I did not, you say a LOT of stupid things when you play video games.”
“How the hell am I supposed to forget someone into submission?”
“I don’t know, I don’t play that game.”
“You’re stupid.”
“You are.”
“You are.”
“No, you are…”
STOPIT! STOPIT NOW!!
Then it’s my turn to say something stupid.
“NOBODY SAY ANYTHING TO ANYONE ELSE, EVER!”
One night, my 3-year-old (who was supposed to be sleeping) started screaming.
Me: What happened?
Him: I hurt my finger on the lightbulb.
Me: What did you do?
Him: I touched it (it was on).
Me: You shouldn’t touch light bulbs, they are hot. Why did you touch it?
Him: Because I wanted to see how hot it was.
She is just fucking with you.
A friends son at three threw a rock and a window and broke it.
“Why”
“To see if it would break.”
OK, makes sense. Did it a second time
“Why”
“To see if it would break again.”
Did it a THIRD time.
“Why”
“Well, I was going to throw it at my brother’s head, but thought you’d be less mad at me if I just broke a window.”
Your experience sounds like pretty much every meal at my house with a 4yr old and a 2yr old.
Me: What do you want for lunch?
4: Peanut butter and jelly sandwich!
Me: [gives her sandwich]
4: I don’t want a sandwich! I want noodles!
Me: Be quiet and eat your sandwich.
4: I’m done eating!
Me: You hardly touched your dinner.
4: My tummy is full!
Me: You realize this means no snacks later, right?
4: Okay, no snacks.
Me: You sure you’re full?
4: I’m sure. [gets down from table]
five minutes elapse
4: What can I have for a snack?
Me: You just ate dinner, you don’t need a snack.
4: But I’m huuuuuunnnnngry!
Me: You’re dinner plate is still on the table. Eat more dinner.
4: But I don’t waaaaaaaaaant that! I want a snack!
Me: Didn’t I just tell you no snacks?
4: Yes.
Me: And didn’t you say you were done eating?
4: Yes.
Me: You get No. Snacks. Eat more dinner if you’re still hungry.
4: But I don’t waaaaant dinner!
Me: Quit whining.
4: I’m nooooot whiiiiiiiiiiiiining.
The two year old just doesn’t eat. Two year olds, IME, are like that. They subsist on air and animal cracker crumbs. They should be exploited as fossil fuel alternatives as they clearly violate laws of thermodynamics.
“Did you clean your room?”
“Yes.”
“Am I going to think it’s clean?”
“Um, let me go check.”
Every single time.
I agree with Bill Cosby…children are brain-damaged.
My daughter, “I cleaned the living room today!”
Her father: “Did you vacuum?”
“Uh, no.”
“Did you dust?”
“Um, no.”
“Did you put stuff away?”
“No.”
“Then what did you do to make it clean?”
“I straightened!”
:smack:
So basically, her idea of cleaning is to straighten the mess that already exists. I cannot imagine how her “clean” room (yes, I checked) gets so trashed by the next day. It’s like a mission for her.
Oh, and in moving my son back to college, (he loaded everything into my car. All by himself. No help from either me or his father) I found an empty Ziplock bag. Yes, in addition to his stereo and clothes and bed linens, I moved an empty Ziplock bag from Orlando(ish) to Melbourne.
:smack: :smack:
My mother has a friend–Susie-- with a teenage daughter–Kelly. She told me this story.
Recently, Susie came home from wherever she’d been to find evidence that daughter had been home when Kelly wasn’t expected to be–Kelly should probably have been at school.
So, she asked Kelly about it. Kelly admitted to having been home–but asked her mother how she knew. Susie declined to share with Kelly this highly important information.
But she shared it with my mother, and now I’ll share it with you. Kelly had a snack consisting of something toasted with peanut butter on it. She did not put the peanut butter away–though she did wash the knife. She also moved the toaster out from the wall, and did not put it back, and she left crumbs on the counter.
None of this is weird for Kelly or her siblings, but Susie knew she’d left the kitchen neat and clean.
Ahh, kids. Gotta love 'em. I’m learning (as a step-parent) The Children’s Lexicon.
Fair As in “It’s not FAIRRRR!”
Translation: This is not to my benefit.
hate
Something one is not in the mood for at one particular moment. (Often with “always”–as noted above: Something one is really not in the mood for at the moment.)
Warning
Something to be ignored, until it is relevant. At that point, it never happened.
On the bright side, there are funny ones too. For instance, my 10-y.o. stepdaughter calls the proboscis monkey the…
Johnson-nosed monkey
Perhaps we, as dopers, can come up with the definitive children’s dictionary?
re: FAIR
I recently spent a significant amount of time playing various games with assorted family members. This resulted in at least 2 declarations of the rules of the game being mean, a couple of screaming fits or players dropping out unexpectedly, one agreement to pretend that a particular card was now located in front of me (instead of in my two-year-old niece’s hand), and one serious “It’s no fun to play if everyone is going to pick on me” declaration.
Sadly, while most of the above came from my 2 year old niece and her 4 year old sister, the last declaration came from their 31 year old father.
To add to the dictionary:
“Just Wrong”: Often stated by teenaged girls to explain how outre her parent(s) are.
Example: Me, wearing black sweatpant, white hoodie, white socks, black fuzzy clogs (I say they’re shoes, NOT slippers) and an orange bandana.
The Kid: Mom, you’re not going to the store in that - it’s JUST WRONG!
(Note she was wearing black and fluorescent checked socks with black and white polka dot shoes, jeans with writing and tears all over, a bright blue t-shirt over which she donned a grey hoodie that she diced the collar on (askew) with her hot pink and lime green polka dotted headband)
GAH!!!: Another expression of teenage disdain, usually followed by a stomping out of the room. The usage of this word can follow any sort of inquiry.
Example:
Me: Did you finish your homework?
The Kid: GAH!! You’re ALWAYS asking me about homework!! (stomps off to room)
Me: Should we go see the Chipmunk movie?
The Kid: GAH!! That’s a KID movie! I’m NOT a KID! (stomps off to room) [sidenote: Just the day prior she expressed interest in seeing it]
