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My daughter only talks to inflatable objects.
My son routinely breaks House Rule #12, sans underwear.
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You have to put underwear on for me to be willing to continue this conversation.
I see you writing on the wall. Put the pencil down. No, you’ve never been allowed to write on my walls.
Let’s play the Stop Yelling Listen To Mom The First Time And Eat Your Breakfast game. I like that game.
Do you really want to frustrate me this early in the morning? Does that EVER end well?
Please don’t write notes at other people’s homes that make them think I’m mean.
Are you talking to me or the balloon again?
The balloon was her friend. They had long conversations about tiny dogs, then it stayed for dinner. It wouldn't share her nuggets because its favorite food is spaghetti & meatballs, which I refused to make for a balloon. Things got uncomfortable between us after that.
You have to stop putting your food between your toes before eating it. It’s weird. And really gross.
What do you mean, “Oopsies!”?
Who on Earth are you talking to now? Oh. The spider. Of course.
Shouldn't she be scared of this thing? Not carrying it around the house giving it the grand tour of her play kitchen??
What crazy things have you said this week?
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- You’re not old enough to wear those shoes.
- Naughty police officer is not an appropriate Halloween costume.
- No you can’t stay up til 10pm. You’re 7. I’m 41, I don’t stay up til 10pm.
“Naughty” ANYTHING is not an option, kids. Not. An. Option.
LMAO about 10pm….
Can’t believe you won’t cook a baloon food.
I know. I’m a terrible, terrible hostess.
Yes, you can take the balloon to bed with you. No, it can not go to the grocery store with us.
And when it popped (finally!) – “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together to mourn the loss of our dear friend Yellow Balloon…”
Birthday weeks bring lots of new balloon friends to our house. I hide them in the closet – she gets one only after one pops or deflates. I handed out the last one today and gave the following warning: “Look, this is your last friend. If you place your friend anywhere near the cat, he (the balloon) will die. Then you will have no more friends.” It’s sad.
Why don’t children love stuffed animals anymore? And, if she doesn’t love them anymore, can I throw them away? They are taking up a lot of space.
And since when do balloons last SO LONG?? I had some from Valentine’s Day that lasted thru August. WTF??
Exactly! My husband learned how to make balloon animals for Z’s last party in December (which, um, was so worth the 10 bucks from Amazon – he was like the friggin’ Pied Piper and I didn’t have 90 kids asking when we were gonna do presents and cake). Some of those shits lasted until his birthday in July when I popped them my damn self.
Whenever my kids catch me slipping the neck of an old, wrinkled balloon, you’d think they found Jack Kavorkian in the kitchen with grandma. Sheesh.
Ugh. I have said the underwear one. Why wont they put on underwear? Or socks? WHY??
WHYYYYY!!!!!?????
It’s not polite to touch your vagina at a restaurant. Yes, I had to say that.
Hmmm. It’s not?
Note to self….
I love the balloon story, though my front-runner is still the time my niece’s feet got embroiled in a huge disagreement. Things got really heated for a while, but eventually they reconciled. I’m sure there were several opportunities for puns there, but I’m too tired.
Miss A put one of her fingers on Time Out after they (her fingers) had an argument & freaked out crying that she couldn’t take it off. POST here: http://wp.me/phY0m-1n
Kids are so strange.
But I wonder…when did your sister realize something was afoot with her kid? Sounds like a stinky situation. She really toed the line of crazy there.
I really can’t remember anythign I say to the kids. It’s like a magnetic fridge poem kit. I could arrange the word—don’t, naked, sister, mommy, timeout, Play-Doh, and NOW—in any combo and legitimately call it something I said this week.
Ahem.
I love the balloon friend. Especially a pasta-eating one.
Usually I’m like this, so I try to write stuff on my phone once I realize what i said. Or if my husband looks at me like I’ve gone particularly nuts – this is a sign to notate.
My son asked me yesterday, “Mummy! Where’s your penis gone?” Ahh the joys of children.
Please tell me this was shouted in a very busy public bathroom.
I’ve found balloons have a good appetite actually, better than DD and substantially less messy. Lovely photo of them both at the dinner table, brilliant sayings as always *grins*.
LOL!
While we are shopping at Target.
My 3 yr old- “Mommy, can I play with my Kuka? (thats Vagina in 3 yr old).
Me-”No honey not at the store.”
When we get home.
My 3yr old-”Mommy, can I play with my Kuka?”
Me- ” *sigh* Yes, honey but only in your room.”
From down the hall… “Mommy, me playing with my Kuka!”
Oh. Hil. ARIOUS!
What made you think that hair dye and pregnancy tests could be mixed together? (Said to my 2 and 4 year old)
Oh boy. Were they…stirring? Nevermind! Nothing good could have come from that….
STOPRUNNING(we-live-in-up-stairs-apartment)
and…….m,,,,,,,,,,,ymspacebar-broken-AGAIN-WHHHYYY
do-not-let-a-4yrold-get-on-computer-again:(
my-favorite-LEAVE-YOUR-Brother-Sister-ALONE-(spoken-to-the-4yr-old)