My daughters are into this vast series of fairy books where the bad guy is Jack Frost. My six-year-old drew me a picture of a few fairies (sounds girly enough, right?) and of Jack Frost. As she’s explaining the picture to me she said, “This fairy is holding a pile of Read the rest of this entry
For one thing, our six-year-old takes pouting to a whole new extreme. When we were all out and about and desperately hungry, we hit a drive thru. Evidently, it was not at our daughter’s restaurant of choice. She sat in her seat, silent, but wearing the puffiest lower lip imaginable. Then I actually saw her reach up and feel her lips to be sure they were in a downward position, lest she make some mistake in conveying her feelings on the matter!
But what’s even better was the night my husband tucked her in Read the rest of this entry
While at work on his birthday, a coworker asked my husband how old he was.
“Forty-seven,” my husband said glibly, choosing an age far enough from the truth so as to be an obvious lie.
“Wow, you look good for your age,” the coworker replied. “You don’t look a day over 40!”
“I was joking,” responded my husband drily. “I’m only Read the rest of this entry
While we were living in an apartment, we didn’t know many of our neighbors, as I was one of the few stay-at-home moms around during the day. We did come to recognize many faces, though, even though not personally acquainted. One of these familiar faces belonged to a very heavy woman, whom my husband and three-year-old son found themselves standing behind in a grocery store check out line one fateful day. Read the rest of this entry
I recently visited my daughter and four grandchildren, aged two to eight. When I left I went to each grandchild for a hug and kiss. When I got to the two-year-old I knelt down and hugged and kissed her. I rocked back on my heels as she gave me the royal wave of good-bye. How cute, I thought. Then she extended her little arm, Read the rest of this entry
Seven-year-old, G: Mom, L [four-years-old] has the tape again, and she’s trying to hide the picture she’s making from you so you won’t see it and know she’s using the tape.
Me: Please take the tape away from her. She knows she’s not supposed to have it.
(Several minutes later) G: Mom, L took the tape again, even though I told her not to. And she told me not to tell you.
L from the other room: Don’t tell Mom!
G: When she tells me not to tell you, I will tell you. Read the rest of this entry
Dinner table conversation:
V, six-years-old, to C, four-years-old: “Say WHORE. Here me? WHORE.” Read the rest of this entry
My four-year-old and I were reading Carl Goes Shopping. When the mischievous dog and baby were left alone in the shopping mall (when is that ever okay?) they headed to the elevator to have adventures on another floor.
“Where are they going?” I asked my daughter.
“To the alligator,” she replied.
“That’s not an alligator,” I told her. “It’s called an elevator.”
She responded, “Well, Read the rest of this entry
“Have you and Dad ever had sex?” my 12-year-old son asked me in the car one day. I just about drove off the road. Read the rest of this entry
At the grocery store, my young son saw an obese woman and asked me, Read the rest of this entry