Awful things my kids said this week

Awful or awfully funny? You decide. Let me know in the comments.

We had guests over Sunday afternoon. One graciously explained to us about different phone plans. And providers. And phones themselves. And frequencies. And something about company buyouts. Plus a lot of numbers were being bandied about.

In other words, I was completely lost by about the third sentence. Maybe second.

Meanwhile, my children sat in the room with us listening patiently. Or so I thought.

When the dear fellow was finished downloading us with all this information, my youngest daughter said, “Finally. I wondered if he was breathing between words.”

I’m not sure if any of the adults in the room have laughed that hard in a long time.

Queen of spades courtesy of pixabay.

Except perhaps when we were playing the card game Tripoli and another daughter, not well-versed in the various suit names, laid down “the queen of hoes.”

After drying our eyes on our sleeves, we informed her that it is actually called the queen of spades.

Of course we try to teach our children manners.

Little Joe asked me for a bagel.

“Did you say, please?” I asked him pointedly.

Crazy things my kid said

We visited my parents at their new home in New Mexico. It was definitely spacious and went beyond the needs of two people. Nonetheless, my darling seven-year-old announced: “Our house is much bigger. When we get home, I’m going to be like, ‘Our house is so nice!'”

Groan.

On a walk in my parents’ ‘hood. So incredibly peaceful and quiet here.

Another time she said, “These eggs are delicious, Nagy Mama.” (Hungarian for grandma)

“Why, thank you!”

“Because I like things that are burnt.”

Facepalm!

The view from their front yard. I got to watch the sun setting on these hills every night. Gorgeous!

Pardon?

You know how people have different ways of expressing that they didn’t hear something you said? There’s the classic, “What?” the “Pardon?” and the “Come again?”

Apparently in Texas they have their own expression for this situation.

I was in the Dallas airport, ordering food, and the woman taking my order said something I didn’t understand. This resulted in an overly lengthy, somewhat comedic exchange.

I said, “What?”

She said her thing again.

I still didn’t catch it. Whatever she said made no sense in my brain. And her bit of accent wasn’t helping either of us. I was forced to say, yet again, “What?”

The wonders of the internet

My stomach hurts just looking at this.

My oldest was watching an educational video about flatworms. Yum! I watched the starfish one with her, but let her handle this video on her own. I had dinner to consider, after all.

When it was over she came to give me her report. This is what she learned about flatworms:

“Mommy, did you know that flatworms are both male and female? And when they mate, they fight each other. The loser has to

And the hits keep coming

I don’t want to hear any comments from you, kid.

I know it’s been a long time since I’ve posted. Several of my blog friends were kind enough to post at the beginning of the summer that they would be taking the summer off. Using that as a good excuse for my laziness, I decided to take the summer off too, without bothering to say anything about it (as I didn’t have a good excuse like they did).  But now I’ve got a story I just have to share:

My husband took our girls to their cousins’ house to go swimming. His sister-in-law’s parents were there watching the youngest of the eight grandchildren while their mom took the rest to–get this–a larger swimming pool. Anyhow, the in-laws told my husband that one of their darling grandsons walked up to his grandfather and asked what that strange line was between his chin and lower lip. Grandfather calmly explained that it was called a wrinkle.

“My dad doesn’t have those,” the little boy informed him.

Fair enough.

Then he turned to his grandmother who only wished she was going to get a comment regarding one of her wrinkles. Instead, he exclaimed,

I haven’t heard that particular version

I’d hate to see what an image of the alternative would look like.

My two-year-old daughter’s favorite song these days is Jingle Bells. She sings it all the time and has started experimenting with alternate lyrics. At Mass on Sunday, during the readings when everyone is attentively listening to the word of God, she looked up at me and said,