Tag Archives: funny kids

My Daughter, The Ferret.

We have a ferret. If you know anything about ferrets, you know they are notorious for stealing things and hiding them. The last time we moved our bed, when we picked up the box spring we discovered a hidey-hole. The little bastard had torn open the fabric and filled the inside with all sorts of random items. Mostly red things, because for some reason our ferret hates anything red.

My daughter is 7. It’s possible that she thinks she is a ferret. Or maybe she’s just weird. It does run in the family.

She started hiding things a few years ago. This was the first thing I found where it didn’t belong:

hiding puppy

 

You can imagine my surprise when I wanted a pot and found eyeballs instead. It was traumatizing, and not just because I jumped back and fell on my ass.

 

 

This child squirrels away the strangest things, in the oddest places.

 

She’s hidden Easter eggs under my pillow. Actually, they were Easter eggs and Silly Putty eggs, which I did not discover until the next morning when I woke up with Silly Putty everywhere. There are still suspicious-looking stains on my comforter.

 

She puts acorns in the clean laundry.

 

When anything goes missing, we know who to ask. It drives my husband crazy, because two of her favorite things to hide are his hat and the TV remote.

 

She really likes sticking things in the spice rack, and when I went to take a picture of the pinecone that was there last week, I found this instead:

20160229_072047

Please excuse my dust.

 

I recently found an unmatched pair of my dirty socks, which had been filled with dozens of My Little Ponies and stuffed under her bed.

 

This cabinet is at the end of the hallway, and is one of her favorite spots to hide things:

20160229_072442

The elusive pinecone.

There is, or there was yesterday, a nearly empty bottle of water, two fake mustaches, a notepad, Christmas candy shaped like diamonds, a pinecone, bubble wrap, a jewelry box full of pennies, a flashlight, and a strip of animal-print fabric. Just the necessities.

 

Below is her diary, carefully placed in the bottom of a drawer in my bathroom.

20160229_072659

 

There is one thing we take turns hiding. She puts it in my pillowcase, under my blanket, in my underwear drawer, in my shoe, or on my shoulder.

 

I put it in the very bottom of toy boxes, up high where (presumably) she can’t reach it, and in boxes marked “yard sale.”

20160229_072221

 

The next time I find this one, no doubt when I’m least expecting it, I’ll be hiding it in the damn trashcan.


Shit My Family Says to Me, Part 98

Yesterday was my anniversary. Neither I nor my husband remembered it until my mom told us congratulations. This is just one example of how bad my memory is. I’m telling you this because I’m about to share some comments from my smartass loving family, and I can’t remember which ones I’ve already posted. Basically, it’s two times the funny. Or a rerun and you’ll wish you had changed the channel.

Either way.

 

Shit My Family Says to Me

I think they want to drive me crazy, but it is far too late.


 

Husband: I think I confuse you sometimes. It’s like you just don’t get what I’m trying to tell you.

Me: *Argues for awhile.*

Me: Whatever, you’re confusing me.

Husband: Um. That’s what I said.

 


 

Me: *Hears something fall in the kitchen*

Thing 2: I found a great place to put the sausage.

Me: *Ignores him*

Later

Me: *sees something nasty hanging half out of the ice dispenser.*

Me: What on earth is that?

Thing 2: Oh! That frozen tube of sausage fell out and I found the perfect spot for it!

Thing 2: *Goes on his merry way*

Me: So this is a tube of sausage that has been hanging out of the freezer all day.

Husband:

Me:

Thing 1: Is no one going to address the fact that he is a dumbass?

Me: *almost wet myself laughing, try to get rid of mushy, thawed sausage, almost cut my hand off, can’t figure out what to do with it.*

Husband: Is no one going to address the fact that he gets it from her?

 


 

Thing 1: *Looking at his ACT admission ticket.* What is this on the back?

Me: Oh. Well, I ran out of paper so I had to print it on part of a book I was reviewing.

Husband: You can’t do that.

Me: Why not? It’s fine.

Thing 1: The first line is, “terrorizing the city or some such bullshit.”

Me: They don’t need to look at the back. They just need the front. Who cares?

Thing 1: *I* care! This is my future we’re talking about here!

Husband: *nods knowingly*

Me: *muttering* I was just trying to be resourceful.

Thing 1: Don’t do that!

Husband: Don’t ever do that.

 


 

Daughter: When I grow up I want to have kids but I don’t want a husband.

Me: *seeing opportunity to teach her to be a strong, independent woman* You don’t have to be married to have babies. There are special doctors you can go to who can help you have babies without a husband.

Her: Really?! Will you take me there?

Me: *Fondly* Of course I will.

Her: And then I can live with you and Daddy and you will help me take care of my babies?

Me: Uh. I guess so?

Later

Husband: So, do you want our daughter to be an unwed teenage mother who lives with us so we can raise our grandchildren?

Me:

 


 

Me: I think I’ll pick up the yard tomorrow.

Husband: I don’t think so. You’ll be hurting for days afterward.

Daughter: You can’t work outside because Daddy said so.

Me: *seeing opportunity to teach her to be a strong, independent woman* No, I can if I want to, because I am a free woman and I don’t have to do what any man says. And when you grow up, you will be the boss of yourself!

Her: *excitedly* DADDY! Mommy says she’s a free woman and she doesn’t have to do what you say!

Husband: What? Oh, okay. Pick up the yard then. You want to weedeat too? Or do you want to load the old washing machine into the trailer? Since you’re a free woman?

Me: Um. No thanks.

Later

Her: Will you get me some more milk?

Me: Go ask your dad.

Her: *excitedly* He said you are free to get me some milk yourself.

Me: Shit.

 


 

Reasons That I Should Be Supervised At All Times

1.  I wrote a bunch of stuff with a black ink pen, then went to see my psychiatrist. She suggested increasing my meds. I did not realize until I got home that I had ink tattoos all over my cheek, chin, and neck.

 

2. *Home alone, untangling cords*

Me: *screams* I will fucking kill you!

 

3. *Home alone, cleaning up bits of deodorant out of the carpet*

Me: *cries out to universe* WHY? WHY?

 

4. *Uses visual aids to demonstrate the Monkey Kingdom movie*

Me: It was so disturbing. All these long, floppy nipples and monkey penises everywhere! They all had them!

Husband: Yes. All monkeys have nipples and penises.

Me: Well, I don’t think it was appropriate for kindergarteners. They should’ve shown the one about tigers.

Husband: Did any of the kids say anything?

Me:

Husband: So there were hundreds of 6-year-olds and you were the only one concerned with monkey parts?

Me:  I think maybe that one little monkey pervert jerking it at the zoo must’ve scarred me badly.

 


Shit My Family Says To Me, Again

Well, I survived another Halloween. In protest, I attended two fall festivals sans makeup and hair styling. I thought if anyone asked I would say I was dressed as a frazzled mother with too many festivals to attend, but no one asked. I did however get mistaken for a sorority sister. That makes me think that the girls who hosted the festival must be heavy partiers and are often seen about town looking next-morning-rough.

In other news, my family has come through for you guys yet again, by way of constantly harassing me and giving me grief.


I tried to tell my son that I was funny and he didn’t believe me.

Me: I have over 2000 followers on my blog.

Thing 2: Stop it. You do not.

Me: Yes. Yes I do. Because people think I’m funny.

Thing 2: The funniest thing you ever said to me is what you just said.


My husband and I were discussing handwriting analysis.

Me: According to my handwriting, I have about five different personalities.

Him: I think at least two of them don’t like me.

Me: *chortles* I have to write that down!

Him: I like how I gave you ample time to dispute that, but you didn’t.

Me: …cause I think you’re right.


Trying to convince my oldest son that I am the coolest mom he knows.

Me: I’m awesome and you know it!

Thing 1: Yeah, if by “awesome” you mean “hard to love.”


Pedi Egg


Shit My Family Says, Part 4

IMG_3921They are nuts, but they’re my nuts.

 


Me: *referring to Thing 2* He’s like an accident waiting to happen.

Thing 1: Him? No, he’s an accident that already happened.


Thing 3: So can I live with you forever, even when I’m a grownup?

Me: Erm, yeah, I guess so.

Thing 3: Good. And even when I have kids?

Me: Sure.

Thing 3:  Okay. And can I make my babies here?

Me:…

Thing 3:  Why did you close your eyes?


Husband: Sorry for being a pain in the ass.

Me: It’s okay.

Him: You always say okay. You never say, “You’re not a pain.”

Me: Yeah. Cause it’s okay.


Thing 2, having a nosebleed: I don’t think it’s healthy for this much blood to be coming out of my face.

Me: I don’t think it’s healthy for any blood to be coming out of your face.


And here are some things I found written in my notebook, in my handwriting. Weird.

1. FFS, HCB, YRAFI

2. This shit is reasonable.

3. I know that this feeling of dread that is SMOTHERING me is completely unreasonable.

4. I appreciate that, sociopath.

5. Do you mean hard to love?

6. You don’t want sperm on your laptop.


What’s the silliest thing you’ve heard lately? Is your family as crazy as mine? Do you write yourself notes and then not remember what you were talking about?


 


Shit My Family Says, Pt. 3

I’m going for my stress echocardiogram tomorrow and ironically enough, I’m a little stressed about it. So to cheer me up I compiled some more tidbits from my goofy, hilarious, ridiculous, favorite family.


Thing 1: It’s Wi-Five.

Thing 2: A high five over the internet!


Husband: Do you want to wear my hat?

Thing 3: No thank you, it still smells like beef.


Me: I either drop my phone or spill my coffee or drop my lighter…Jesus Christ.

Husband: You need a fanny pack. You can just wear it around here and I won’t tell anyone.

Me: *Laughing*

Husband: Are you laughing because you know I’m lying?


Me: You know I hate it when you twerk.

Thing1: This booty brings home the dough.

Thing2: I thought you said, “this booty brings home the dope.”

Me: That booty better not be bringing anything anywhere.


Thing 1, directing traffic at a small concert, texting husband:

There are pigs fighting in a cage on a trailer. What do I do?

Nevermind.

A guy came with a prod.

There’s a lady screaming animal abuse.

They are leaving.


The following is a list of things I heard Thing 2 saying while he played Minecraft with his friends. Note the difference between what I heard and what he actually said. After each of these I yelled, “HEY!  What are you talking about in there?” Or “WATCH YOUR MOUTH!” and then was informed that I am crazy and he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

What I heard:  EFF IT!

What he actually said:  EPIC!

 

What I heard:  Did you take all the weed?

What he actually said:  Did you take all the wheat?

 

What I heard:  Did you smoke it all?

What he said:  Did you smelt it all?

 

What I heard:  Someone’s been stomping on my crotch and I don’t like it.

What he said:  Someone’s been stomping on my crops and I don’t like it.

 

What I heard:  Where’s the stripper?

What he said:  Where’s the spider?

 



Shit My Family Says, Round 3

So, you know how after you have kids, you spend countless hours teaching them right from wrong and how to behave and grow into healthy, contributing members of society? And then you take them out in public and in less than 5 seconds they can make you look like a complete asshat or worse?

That happens a lot around here.

My daughter is 5 and she’s having some trouble separating what is real from what is imaginary.  And by “having trouble,” I mean she’s a little liar.

I’m kidding, I’m kidding.

Kind of.

I don’t think she means to be naughty; in fact, I’m pretty sure she’s trying to be funny. We’re a jokey bunch, so that’s not surprising. But she doesn’t get jokes yet. At least, not how to tell them.

A knock-knock joke from this kid can last an hour. Then you get to the end and of course it’s not funny, but you laugh, cause she’s your kid. Then she says something about someone’s flatulence and that actually is funny, so you laugh.

Then you go out to eat and she tells the strangers at the next table that a) her mommy didn’t make her wear shorts under her dress this time so it’s just panties – wanna see? and b) mommy thinks it’s funny when someone farts.

Everyone laughs at this, so of course she continues to over share. Eventually she runs out of embarrassing but true stories and moves on to totally made up ones.

Such as:

“My mommy goes crazy, like an ape, like a mad, crazy monkey ape.”

“I know that, because I am a smart Alec.”

“We’re all werewolves.  We got bit.  Came in right through the window.”

“I don’t like my brothers because that’s how my mommy made me while I was in her tummy.”

What?  I wish I knew how I managed that, cause I would’ve made her not like any boys.  Ever.

no-boys-480

Or she might just make up a song.  Her songs are generally very amusing and mostly even rhyme.

Then you’ve got the ones like this that make you want to crawl under a table and hide.  For the rest of your life. “It’s an adventure in your mouth, it’s a magical bed louse.” Over and over.

I have no fucking idea.

But I have been told that I also made up songs as a child.  Though I wasn’t so imaginative, I did enjoy performing one-word ditties in front of a packed restaurant.  I’ll give you a hint: It rhymed with duck, duck, duck.  Over and over.

I guess over sharing also runs in the family, because my boys were the same way.  Once one of them (not to name any names) announced to a friend of mine that he had “just pooped a whale.”

Now that they are older, if they say anything to embarrass me, it’s on purpose and I assure you it is all lies.  Like when they tell people that I don’t feed them.  Or that they only like burnt pizza because “that’s how they were raised.”

I’m basically terrified to take them anywhere.


Ants Bite and Some Other Stuff

We had to take Thing 3 to have another set of blessed ear tubes put in again to give her some relief from the blasted recurrent ear infections.  Since we live 10 miles outside of Timbuktu, we had quite a drive ahead of us and decided to throw in some family time and make the dreaded trip into a mini-vacay.

We figured the kid wouldn’t remember the tubes, but she might remember that Mommy and Daddy took her to the zoo.

Except we didn’t even make it to the zoo.  (Probably a good thing, since animals are all perverts.) (Or maybe I’m the pervert.  Either way.)

Here are a few things I learned on our way — our long, long way filled with constant chatter from one or all three kids.

1.  Thing 2’s rendition of the Rice Krispies commercial was a bit disconcerting, since he fucked it up horribly.

“What?” he says over our laughter. “It’s crack, smack, Snapple, and pop, right?”

Um….no.  Also, are you on drugs?

ricekrispies.com

ricekrispies.com

2. Thing 3 is 5 years old and is turning into a smartass.  I believe she gets it from her father.

Thing 3:  *Rolls her eyes and sighs* What-EVER!

Thing 2:  Oh no, you’re turning into a woman!

Thing 3:  Your mom’s a woman.

So, my five-year-old is making “your mom” jokes, and I consider that a parenting win.  Even though technically I think I was just insulted.

3. When we finally reached our destination, we headed directly for the pool.  The kids and the husband swam while I found the cutest little patio area outside in the sun to smoke and read the paper.  I discovered that I love sitting quietly while my kids are entertained by something that is not me and is free swimming.

This Is How It's Done.

This Is How It’s Done.

4.  After the pool we had plans for the zoo, but as usual, my body betrayed me and we decided to rest and go to an arcade instead.  The kids had great fun blowing my money, and I found out that Thing 3 thinks I am “the best mommy she’s got” because I drive “TURBO fast” in the go-kart.  Hold your applause; we were the only ones on the track.

Getting ready to tear it up on some go-karts.

Getting ready to tear it up on some go-karts.

5. Then I learned that my gallbladder/heart/liver/something on my insides really does hate me and I almost had to go to the ER because I really know how to ruin have a good time.  I was up most of the night moaning in the bathtub because I felt like an invisible murderous asshole was stabbing me in the stomach.  Luckily for him he was invisible and possibly imaginary.

5.  I learned that I am able to drive a wheelchair about as well as a car, and by that I mean not well at all.  I ran into two people, a bed, a door, and a couple of walls before the wheelchair was confiscated.

6.  The term “ants in your pants” is very apt.  This actually happens and really does cause jiggling, jumping, and general insanity while you are being bitten.  On the ass.  In a parking lot.  I’m sure there is film somewhere of me frantically slapping my own ass and screaming bloody murder.

peppysdevelopments.wordpress.com

peppysdevelopments.wordpress.com

7.  Ant bites are huge.  I have one for each cheek, so I should know.

8.  I can catch a child’s milkshake vomit in a Wal-Mart sack with a hole in it while driving down the road and not spill any. Yes, I’d like a medal.

9.  My oldest child is an angel and will make someone very lucky one day.  (I actually already knew this one.)  We got home and that kid ordered me to bed, brought me a fan and a washcloth, and helped get the other kids settled.  He’s also adorable and a genius, but calm down ladies, he’s only 15.

10.  If you go to the doctor and check every box that says, “nearly every day” on their little questionnaire and then burst into tears, they are much nicer to you than usual. Today I went to the doctor and had a total meltdown.  And that was before they did an EKG “just to rule out heart problems” and the bastard came back “abnormal.”  Of fucking course it did.  Have I mentioned that my body hates me?

11.  If you have plans for the weekend in spite of the fact that you know you should rest, your doctor will schedule an abundance of tests for Saturday, on just about every internal organ you have.  Then the following week can be spent at cardiologists, gastroenterologists, psychiatrists, and other places well known for fun and games.

12.  If you leave town for two days, your renters might take that as the perfect opportunity to leave town themselves, only they might take all their stuff and not leave any rent money.  Anyone interested in a two bedroom in Timbuktu?

 


Shit My Family Says To Me, Round Two

My family is hilarious, as some of you know, and my memory is nonexistent.  So I have notebooks, journals, post-it notes, and random scraps of paper all over the house with quotes from my husband and kids.  I’m sharing their funny today, because my funny is still in recovery (but well on its way back).  Thing 1 is my oldest, a 15-year-old boy, Thing 2 is the middle child, an almost-12-year-old boy, and Thing 3 is the youngest, a 5-year-old girl.  They are all a mess.  Husband is old enough that his beard is turning gray but younger than me, which is why I get to be the boss.


Thing 1, trying to use an old school calculator:

Me:  I know this is ancient technology, but….

Thing 1:  I’m not an anthropologist, mom! I also don’t know how to work a trebuchet or a Game Cube.

Husband:  He doesn’t know how to use a catapult either.


Overheard:  Thing 2 convincing his sister that he was magic and he had turned her invisible.  She was amazed, and I was just glad he was speaking to her.  A few minutes later:

Thing 2: Now, if you want to be magic like me, all you have to do is smell my feet.  Yep. Just sniff.  HAHAHAHA!  YOU’RE MAGIC!


Thing 3:  I think I got a rash. Do I? Do I got a rash?

Me: What? No. But why are you all wet? Did you spill your milk?

Thing 3: No. I been at the pool.

Me: We do not have a pool.

Thing 3: It’s my new pool. I just got it.

Me:  I’m not going in the living room. I’m afraid of what I might find.


Thing 3 refuses to eat her vegetables.  She just came up to me, as sweet as can be, and said she could not eat her dinner because it “makes her boring.”

Me:  Haha.  Eat it anyway.

Thing 3:  I really need something else to eat, so I can like you.

Dammit. She’s only 5 and she already doesn’t like me. It took the other ones a bit longer.


You know you’re raising your child right when you tell her “not right now” and she says, “Fine. Then I guess monsters will just eat your brain and face.”


Thing 2:  MOM!  MOM!  I think I’m catching the puberty!


My cousin, about 15 years ago.  His dad was in the house getting ready to take him squirrel hunting.  Matt just went out in the yard and caught one.

My cousin, about 15 years ago. His dad was in the house getting ready to take him squirrel hunting. Matt just went out in the yard and caught one.


Me: Listen you, I have to have those invoices from last month. Or else.

Husband: I don’t think most secretaries are this indignant.


Me:  So they won’t put me to sleep, but I guess I’ll be sedated enough that I won’t know they are putting a camera down my throat, and I won’t remember anything.

Husband:  Let me get this straight.  You’re not going to be able to tell what’s going in your mouth, and you won’t remember anything?  I’ll drive you.


Me, getting ready to take a nap: Ok, so behave and don’t answer the door and if someone calls take a message but be polite, it could be my boss or something.

Thing 2, very seriously:  Oh, I know what your boss sounds like, I’ve hung up on her before.


Me: What are you doing?

Thing 2 (from inside a box):  Now, mom, don’t just jump to conclusions.


Husband:  Well, Laura said-

Me:  Wait, wait, wait.  You call the weather lady by her first name?  What are you guys, friends?

Husband:  There’s Laura, and Drew, and-

Me:  That is so weird, please stop talking.


Thing 3, to her teacher:  My mommy is making me a little brother so I can have a prince in my game.

Husband, embarrassed:  Um, no, she’s not.

Thing 3:  I NEED A PRINCE.  If the baby turns into a girl we will give it to another family, but if it is a boy who is nice and doesn’t eat his boogers, then we’ll keep him.


Written in one of my notebooks, don’t know why:

This shit is reasonable.

Poison mice with Tylenol!  (I’m a little worried about how excited I apparently was with this idea.)


Husband:  I’m not going to ask you to do anything today that you can’t do lying down.


Thing 3:  Momma, what’s your favorite thing for Mother’s Day?
Me:  Going fishing with my kids.
Thing 3:  I don’t believe you. You always say, “Just a minute” and that is NOT spending time with your kids. What do you really want?

Thank you, child, for calling me out on my parenting skills on Mother’s Day.  Awesome.


Oh, how I love those little smartasses.



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