“From the Mouths of Babes”….
“Kids Say the Darndest Things”
“Yada Yada Yada”
As the proud mother of a 7-year-old, I’m often privy to some of the freshest humor around. Delivered, of course, by my cutie pie/sweetheart/oh-so-squeezable offspring. Scroll down a bit for the shares.
Single, non-parent types probably think this is downright boring.
Oh God. There she goes on one of those Mommy Blog tangent things
To which I reply: Perhaps. Sue me. Take a commercial break and go make yourself a sandwich or something.
To my fellow parent-types: Enjoy. To the non-parents: Can I get you a soda water with lime to go with that?
#1 – I host monthly Writers Meetings in Tel Aviv for ..um..writers and each session is addressed by a lecturer on the chosen topic of the month. We’ve had prize winning authors, network television correspondents, NY Times writers and business bloggers host meetings; last month our guest lecturer was a columnist and editor for Israel’s national Haaretz Newspaper.
Due to a list minute babysitter cancellation, my unfortunate son had to tag along with me to the meeting. He threw a fit – rightfully so – raging about the unjust ways of the world and evil mothers therein. Cajoling and bribery on my part got us into a taxi and to the meeting with not a minute to spare where I greeted the guest and welcomed the group.
My son calmed down and sat quietly drawing and doodling beside me for about an hour.
Then, during the Q&A part of the evening, he suddenly raised his hand.Ah. My sweet precious child is curious!
Unabashedly he asked the guest: When will you be finished?
# 2 – At the pharmacy checkout counter :
150 Shekels! (the equivalent of about U.S. $42) You’re spending 150 Shekels? my son exclaimed.
The cashier and I chuckled and shook our heads in that knowing “Wait until he gets older and finds out what spending really is” sort of way when he blurted:
And it’s for Dreck!
#3 – En route home at the end of a long grueling day my beloved only child ducked into a toy store.
I went in after him.
“Come on! Let’s go home!” I called impatiently.
He turned on his heel and glared at me squarely.
You don’t get it, do you? he huffed, hands on hips.
I’m a kid, mom. This is what I’m supposed to do.