I know how you love to read the funny and frustrating things my kids say. I know it's just because it makes you feel better about your life, and that's OK. I'm glad to help. And, apparently so are my kids because they just keep popping out with some doosies!
Notables of Late
Jace, 6:
"That's not pink, Gracie. It's apricot." He was right.
"I don't like these. I asked for slacks." If you're wondering why he wants slacks in August in Georgia, it's because somebody (mama) made a crazy rule that you can only wear cowboy boots with pants, and not on P.E. days. He's outgrown last years dress pants and asked for new slacks, "Cream ones please," not black or navy blue.
"I'm bored at school. Can I go to second grade?"
Gracie, 4:
Her: "You better pull over right now and get me the book out of the trunk!"
Me: (thought) "If I pull over it won't be to get you a book..."
(spoken) "I don't think you'll be getting that book even once we're home. You don't talk to your mother that way, do you?"
Her: "No, Ma'am." See, she's gittin' brung up right here in the South.
Her: "Are pickles a vegetable?"
Me: "Um...maybe? Cucumbers are and pickles come from cucumbers."
Her: "Well, then, there's a vegetable I like!"
"At my school you're not supposed to run in the classroom but Passion and Nathaniel and Morgan always run in the classroom and I remind them not to run but they don't listen to me so I tell the teachers. I say, 'Teacher, Passion and Nathaniel and Morgan were running in the classroom and I told them they're not supposed to and they didn't stop.' Then they don't get three smiley faces. And we're supposed to sit criss-cross applesauce on the rug when we sit on the rug and I get to sit on G because my names starts with G and I'm the only one in my class whose name starts with G and I sit on G. But Nathaniel sits behind me and he never sits criss-cross applesauce like he's supposed to because he doesn't make good choices for himself and he kicks me and I remind him that the rules are to sit criss-cross applesauce and he doesn't listen so I raise my hand to tell the teacher...." You get the idea, I'm sure.
Tyler, 20 months:
"Mama."
"Mama, mama, mama....Ma! Ma!"
"araaahh arrrahhhaaah mama!"
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