We’re watching a TV program on UFOs. I ask my 9-year-old daughter if she’d like to meet an alien at all. She goes, “Well, if it’s a good-looking one – then sure.”
I’m a dad, playing with my 5-year-old daughter.
“So, do you wanna play Star Wars?”
I adapt a Darth Vader voice.
“I Am Your Father!”
“Nah, you’re more of a princess Leia.”
My 7-year-old son has just said to me, “You know why dogs like to lick us humans? That’s cos we got bones inside, and they like bones!”
Paul is 4, and he “doesn’t want to not eat candy.”
Dad says, “You’re grounded for the weekend.”
To which his son replies, “Don’t say things like that to me, dad, they make me real stressed out!”
Me and my son are outside, walking to the park, chatting and laughing; it’s all peace and quiet. Then he suddenly says, “Actually, you’re such a good woman when you’re not yelling, you know!”
My daughter said to me the other day, “Mommy, you’re so great, I’ve never had such a great mommy before!”
“Hey, shall I heat up some soup for you?”
“Yeah, thanks! But meat only, I don’t like the soup water.”
My son prepared a speech for my mom (his grandma) on Mother’s Day, but got a little stuck in the process.
He goes, “Dear grandma, happy Mother’s Day to you!” And then he’s looking all stressed because he cannot remember what else he was supposed to say.
Grandma comes to the rescue and starts prompting.
“And I wish you…”
“…And I wish you make your blueberry muffins! Will you make muffins, grandma??”
My son is 3 years and 3 months old, and he came up to me with a very important question the other day.
“Mommy, was it dark inside your tummy when I was still living there?”
“Yes, it’s pretty dark in there.”
“Couldn’t you just install a nightlight there or something?!” He sounded genuinely hurt.
My son is 4 years old, and his daycare class has been busy lately figuring out what they all want to be when they grow up.
My son said he was going to be “retired, and that’s it.”
This got his teachers laughing quite hard.
“Mom, can I have a sandwich with ham and cheese? No bread, please.”
My wife promised to punish our daughter Michelle and, for a change, kept the promise and actually punished her. This got her in tears, wailing, “You’re not mom! I thought you were mom, but turns out you’re dad!”
I was grinding beetroot into a bowl for my signature dish the other day when my kid came up to me and asked, “What are you scratching so hard over there?”
“Mom, let’s have me a brother or a sister! Dad’s always at work anyways, he won’t even notice.”
Me: Hey, honey, why aren’t you playing with the other kids?”
Daughter: Scared of commitment, mom.
So we’re on vacation, renting a nice apartment in a condo of 4 separate flats. My daughter Ann is 7. One day, she asks, “Mom, why do Nelly’s mom and grandma put strawberry bits all over their faces?”
(She’s talking about the family that rented the apartment next door for the summer.)
“Well, you know, that’s a beauty recipe!”
“Erm, do they even realize they’re not looking beautiful at all when they do it?…”
Little Alice asks me, “Mom, do you know what me and dad have in common?”
I start listing things like “you’ve got the same eyes,” or “your noses look pretty much the same.”
Turned out, the only thing they had in common, according to Alice, was the last name.
My wife is explaining to our older son (he’s 11) that he needs to get rid of the last of his baby teeth that is still there, since it’s preventing a molar tooth from coming out.
She says, “If you can’t loosen it by yourself, we’ll have to go see a dentist in a couple of days.”
The younger son, who is 6, adapts a grim voice from some movie trailer he must have seen the other day and says, “This will be the death one can only dream of!”
My son had a girl friend that used to always make him play house or prince-and-princess weddings, and so on. He much preferred his Legos, though. He loved putting things together, building ships and cars and especially airplanes.
That sneaky friend of his quickly figured out how to use it to her advantage. She came back for a visit with a “female fighter jet”. Needless to say, he had no options but to get super impressed and play “fighter jet wedding” with her.
My wife works in a daycare center, and one of her colleagues, named Maria, is 64. She’s a very fit 64-year-old, but lately got in the habit of complaining to her younger colleagues about being old and easily tiring of things. So my wife and others tried to console her, saying that she wasn’t that old at all and still had a lot of energy to keep going.
Then, one of the other teachers had an idea. She goes, “How about we ask the kids what they think of Maria’s age? Come on, kids, how old do you think Maria here is?”
The little ones learnt to count to 20 just a day or two ago, and the plan was that they wouldn’t even recall any numbers greater than 20. Chances were, they’d say something like 18.
The question caught the kids by surprise. They all sat quietly for a while, trying hard to come up with a good answer. And then little Irene replied in a clear and assured voice, “Is it three hundred?…”