Tag Archives: things kids say



Over the breakfast table this morning, the classic first grade joke,

“Hey, Mom, if you love pepperjack cheese so much, why don’t you marry it?”,

gave way to a slightly more serious discussion of marriage, in which it was established that you only get married once, for life, and that you can’t be married to more than one person at the same time.  (Sorry, pepperjack cheese–our love just wasn’t meant to be.)

Caleb’s brow furrowed.  “Mom, I think I have a problem.”

“What problem?” I asked.

“Well, I have two girls I want to marry, and I can’t decide which one to ask.”

“Oh, really?  Who are they?”

“Kayla…and Morgan.” 

I knew sweet Kayla from teaching Caleb’s kindergarten class last year.  “Who’s Morgan?” I asked.

“You know, Mom–she’s the girl in kindergarten whose hair is the exact same color as vanilla ice cream!”

What woman, I ask you, is going to be able to resist such a poetic soul?

Club Rulez


Overheard from the backseat as I was driving the kids to school this morning:

Katie:  Hey, Caleb…let’s make up a secret club!  You and I can be the members.

Caleb:  Okay!  (He’s always game for just about anything his sister suggests.  I wonder how long that will last.)

Katie:  First we need to make up some rules for the club.  What rules do you think we should have?

Me (totally eavesdropping and interrupting, but thinking of my own childhood secret club experiences): How about “Don’t be mean”?

Katie:  Yes.  That’s a good one.  What else?

Caleb:  No smoking!  (I stifle a giggle.)

Katie:  Okay…  So we’ve got “no being mean” and “no smoking”.  Can you think of any  more?

*both think in silence for a while*

Katie:  Well, I guess we don’t have to have anoth–

Caleb (triumphantly):  “NO CARVING ON THE WALLS!”

Katie (after pondering for a moment):  How about “No destroying the house in any way”?

Caleb: Yeah.


I don’t know if I should be scared that he thought of that rule, or just relieved that it made the cut.

Things Kids Say


With Paul and the rest of the guys out for poker night, we girls convened at Allison’s house for dinner and a visit. I brought my kids, and Christina brought her two, Jessica and Caleb.  The four of them ran joyfully amok together, flitting in and out of the living room where the rest of us were talking and providing ample material for another installment of Funny Things Kids Say:


Caleb (reclining on the papa-san chair with Jessica, looking fondly over at her as they recover from a shared fit of giggles):  Maybe we should be married, Jessica.

Jessica:  Aren’t you already married?

Caleb:  I don’t know…  Am I, Mom?


Mom:  How many kids do you want to have when you grow up to be a daddy, Caleb?

Caleb:  Um, two.

Mom:  Do you want girls or boys?

Katie:  Or you could have one of each!  (thinks for a moment) Hey, do you think you’ll have an albino?


Katie:  Will you spin me and Jessica around in the papa-san chair?

Caleb:  Well, no.  But you could have my autograph.


I used to think Bill Cosby was so clever on that show “Kids Say the Darndest Things”, maneuvering the conversation, setting kids up for their zingers.  Now that I’m a mom, I realize what an easy job that must have been.  When you’re learning the ins and outs of the English language and just starting to navigate the complexity of human relationships, the funnies just fall out of you like a trail of graham cracker crumbs.

Cute Kids


Reading Corner

From the first week of school:

*While reading a story about pythons on the reading carpet, a felt a tap on my knee and looked down into Andy*’s mischievous grin.  “Hey, teacher, do you want to see a python in real life?”  “Um, I don’t know,” I hedged.  “Because if you do, I’ve got one RIGHT HERE,” he continued, pointing with a flourish to his tiny curled bicep.  I tried to look impressed, hoping he didn’t notice I was choking on a laugh.

*Little Kyra was in tears, and I was the duty teacher on the playground.  “What’s wrong?” I asked, and she informed me that she only had “one friend in this whole school, and she’s playing with somebody else!”  I told her that she might only know one person so far, but that there were lots of girls in our class that would love to be friends with her.  As if on cue, sweet, quiet Brandy, who had overheard us, stepped forward and said, “Hey, I want to be your friend, Kyra!  Let’s go play on the slides.”  And off they went.  I just stood there with my eyes tearing up, full of sweet gladness at being witness to such a moment.  I can see already that my students aren’t the only ones who will be learning a lot this year.

*Caleb brought Tiny Tiger to school for Show and Tell on Friday.  He told the kids a little about where he got him, and then delivered what he clearly considered the coup de grace:  “Watch what he can do!”  And with that, he seized Tiny Tiger’s tail and used it to execute a complex series of what I know were karate moves, complete with whipshot sound effects.  The kids laughed (and so did I, I admit.)  Caleb’s face creased in consternation as he admonished, “Guys, don’t laugh!  This is serious business!”

*After school on Thursday, as I stayed to finish up my prep for the next day, Caleb asked me if he could have some more of the Skittles I use to reward the kids for good behavior at the end of class.  I said no.  “Uh oh, Mom,” he said, “You just broke the Number One Caleb Rule.  It’s give Caleb whatever he wants all the time.  You get an ‘F’.”

So I survived the first week of school, but I got an F.  Look at it this way:  At least there’s room for improvement.


*Names of kindergarteners have been changed to thwart the papparazzi.

Confessions of a Mommy Blogger


When I started blogging, I never intended to write a “mommy blog”. I just wanted to write. But they say to write what you know, and what I know in this season of my life happens to revolve around potty training and PBS television, cheerios and crayons–all the flotsam and jetsam of an existence defined, at least temporarily, by the two precious souls I have in my care.

So I write about boogers. About bedtime rituals and birthdays. I blog our sleepless nights and our busy days. I share my rare flashes of parenting insight and the cute things kids say. Sex talks, sibling rivalry, pancakes, puke (did I mention puke?)—nothing is above or below my purview as a member of Team Procreation.

I am mommy. Hear me roar.

There was a time, when I was younger, that I feared becoming a mother. I was afraid of losing myself—of having my love of great literature usurped by a cultish devotion to Dr. Seuss, of trading in my stylish clothes for a uniform of baggy sweats with permanent spit-up stains, of not recognizing the girl in the mirror as the one who dreamed of travel and adventure and changing the world in some sweeping stroke of divine inspiration.

I’ve been a mother for a decade now, and I can honestly say that I haven’t been lost, as I feared, but found—transformed into the self I never knew I always wanted to be.

There have been changes, true.

I’ve learned that love truly does conquer all, including my fundamental aversion to handling other people’s body fluids.

I’ve rediscovered my inner child. Also, my inner chef, my inner therapist, and my inner drill sergeant.

I’ve uncovered fears that far eclipse the loss of my skinny jeans.

But in essentials, I’m very much the same as I ever was.

I still love great literature, but my definition of greatness has widened to include the likes of Seuss and Sendak, sandwiched cozily next to Bronte and Browning on our bookshelf.

I still enjoy a beautiful pair of shoes, or the perfect little black dress, but what I’m wearing isn’t nearly as important to me now as what I’m modeling for my children in my choices and actions. (And judging from pictures of the good old days, I wasn’t as stylish as I thought I was, anyway.)

I still love travel and adventure, but now every adventure is seen through the fresh eyes of childhood, wonders piled upon wonders, a mystery around every new corner.

Most of all, I still dream of changing the world, but I realize now that the change I envisioned will not sweep through on a grand gesture of mine, but will creep tenderly in through the hearts that are growing beneath my care, hearts soaked daily in the waters of love, compassion, faith, and hope.

And the Divine inspiration? Well, I couldn’t do any of it without that.

So there it is.  I have a Mommy Blog, and I’m proud of it.  (But check back in fifteen years or so for posts about beautiful shoes.)

How YOU Doin’?


Apparently my son likes older women.

Sunday afternoon, we pulled up to the drive-through window at Wendy’s to get some lunch, and Paul handed our debit card to the girl at the register, who ducked back inside to run it through the machine.

“Hey!” Caleb called out from the back seat, “Will you open my window, Daddy? I want to say ‘hi’ to her. She’s pretty!”

Paul and I swapped wide-eyed looks. Seriously? Our five year old wants to chat up the teenager working at the drive-through?

Just as I was about to tell Caleb that she was busy and couldn’t talk right now, Paul did what any red-blooded American Dad in his place would do. He rolled down Caleb’s window and pulled the car forward a little so that Caleb could flirt with the Wendy’s girl.

Caleb was elated. He pulled off the hood on his coat (the better to make eye contact, I guess) and murmured to himself, “Okay, here we go…” In a moment, she was back, and he was ready.

“Hi!” he piped at her cheerily. She smiled, instantly charmed (of course). “Hi, back,” she said.

And that was it. Caleb sat back, completely satisfied with his conquest, while Paul and I hid giggles of high amusement.

He’s going to be the only kid in kindergarten wearing Axe body spray.

Say What?


Language acquisition is a complex thing. And if the language being acquired is English (or worse, American), it’s altogether amazing that we develop the ability to communicate in complete sentences at all. Full of traps and complicated verb conjugation and huge, sucking tar pits of inconsistent grammar, English can send those who try to master it howling for mercy.

Why, the comma alone makes me weep. (Or is it “the comma, alone, makes me weep”?)

Anyway, it’s no surprise that most kids, when faced with the monumental task of learning to speak their native tongue, end up utilizing a few “original” constructions. And by and large (with the possible exception of a child who once said to me, when I was pregnant, “Hey, puffy lady!”), they are stinkin’ adorable.

We always think we’ll remember the funny things our kids used to say, but we don’t. So I thought I’d write some of Caleb’s cute verbal inventions down now, while he’s still using them.

The Caleb Lexicon:

*nose carrots–the long, full size carrots (as opposed to baby carrots, which we usually buy), so called because they are the proper carrots for snowman noses.

*cranky talk–the deep, croaky voice that comes out when you have a sore throat.

*the circle store–Target.

*I’m allergic of that!–I don’t like that broccoli/pot roast/cottage cheese and I’m absolutely not going to eat it; further negotiations are pointless. (Another variation: “That makes me cough!” *interject fake coughing here*)

*mommy show–any movie or television show that isn’t animated.

*growed-up girl–woman.

*I don’t wanna see that weird face!(accompanied by hands over the eyes) I can see that you are angry at me, and I want to get out of this mess without a) a lecture, b) a spanking, or c) the creation of a new family rule. Please go away.

*Cookie Lady–the worker behind the bakery counter at Wal-mart who gives Caleb his free Cookie Club cookie. A required stop on the Wal-mart circuit, along with the fish tanks and the toy department.

*she or her–all-purpose pronouns that can refer to anyone from Katie to Santa Claus to Shaquille O’Neal.

*-ed–a suffix that, when added, makes any word past tense. When in doubt, add two for good measure. “Daddy, did you see what I maked-ed?” “But I already goed-ed potty!”

These are just the ones I can think of off the top of my head, but every day seems to produce new and different ways of expressing the wild thoughts and feelings that are swirling around inside this tiny observer of the world. Where else can you hear lines like this?:

“Um, I don’t speak girl, Mom.”

“Want to jump inside this book?” (I nod.) “Well, we can do that later, when some fairy godparents get in here.”

“When we get married together, I’ll be the boy and you can be the princess.”  (Such a sweet offer!)

So what are some of the funny things your kids say?

For Truth, Justice, and an End to Wanton Tickling!


Today’s guest blogger is Paul (a.k.a. The Geek):


The other night, I took a break from The Two Towers DVD to put together a couple little puzzles with my kids. The puzzles were both picturing Marvel super heroes, and so as we built the puzzles, my kids asked about the different characters, their history and special abilities. Having been blessed growing up with an older brother who had means to subscribe to comics, I was happy to impart my fairly vast pool of fictional hero lore to my eager children. They were a great audience and seemed very excited by some of the powers. Once they had amassed what they felt was an adequate degree of knowledge, they began to choose which ones they wanted, as if I would somehow bestow these super gifts upon them myself. My son’s choice went so:

Caleb: [Pointing to the heroes as he talks about them] If I had Cyclops’ laser beam and Wolverine’s claws, I could STOP EVILDOERS. [Does a decent upper body power pose.]

Dad: [Looking quite impressed] I bet you could! You’d be a GREAT superhero.

Caleb: Yeah! [thoughtful pause] What’s an evildoer?

Dad: [Controlling himself] It’s someone who does what is wrong and sometimes hurts other people.

Caleb: Yeah! Like making a booby trap chair…or…giving tickles.

Apparently giving tickles is akin to villainous torture. Enhanced chairs? Not sure about that one. I was taking too much care not to blow tea out my nose in laughter to delve further into the evils of modified recliners. I’ll just look before sitting down anywhere in the home until I am sure my son’s super allegiances are clear.

Word to the wise: Take care when explaining Johnny Storm. My kids got waaaaay too excited about his powers. “Fire is nothing to play with. It will burn you. The Human Torch is just pretend,” I told them. That seemed to quell their thirst for flying pryomania.

For now.

Where the Heart Is


After a long morning of Christmas shopping that involved traipsing from store to store and in and out of register lines (sheer torture for a four year old), we had just gotten back into the car when Caleb asked me, “Mom, where are we going next?”

“Home,” I replied.

“Oh, good. I love home, Mom,” he said, a note of relief in his voice. “It’s warm, and it smells good, with no monsters and no lightning storms. Sweet home, sweet home!”

(How cute is that?)

Who Needs Nun-chucks?


After her bath today, I was carefully combing the tangles out of Katie’s wet hair, a lengthy and delicate ordeal that usually leaves both of us frustrated. Fortunately, Katie recently asked to get her long hair cut short, a proposal I readily agreed to. We’re going to make an appointment as soon as possible.

“You know,” I mused, in the middle of a particularly impenetrable snarl, “when your hair is short, it will so much easier to comb. And you’ll be able to wash it by yourself, too. Short hair is a lot easier to take care of.”

“Is there anything else that’s good about short hair?” Katie asked.

“Sure! In the summer, it’s a lot cooler, especially when it’s off your neck, like yours will be.”

Always my measured and logical thinker, Katie asked, “Then what are the good things about having long hair?”

“Well,” I said, considering, “you can fix it in lots of different ways, like in ponytails and pigtails, or in a bun on top of your head. So short hair is easier to care for, but you can do more styles with long hair.”

She thought about that for a moment before adding, “Oh, and also, you could make your hair into a long braid to smack anybody who provokes you, right?”

That’s it. No more kung fu movies before the kids go to bed.