5-year-old: I can’t do it!
Me:
5-year-old: There. I got my shoes on.
Me: All right! You can do hard things!
5-year-old: Can I build a house? No.
Husband: You can sit in your seat until it’s time for dinner.
3-year-old: No.
Husband: Get in your seat.
3-year-old: I don’t want to get in my seat.
Me: Daddy’s being nice. I would have put you to bed early.
3-year-old: You’re evil.
Husband: A man lives in an all-pink one-story house. What color are the stairs?
9-year-old: Not enough information.
Husband: A man lives in an all-pink one-story house. What color are the stairs?
9-year-old: Oh, there are no stairs, because it’s a on-story. I could have said they were pink, but that would have been wrong, because a one-story house doesn’t have stairs, right? Unless it’s levitated. Like Nonny and Poppy’s.
6-year-old [examining his skin closely]: I think I’m shedding some skin here.
6-year-old: Dear God, please help us stop tooting. Amen.
Husband: Sometimes toots are good for us. Maybe just pray that they don’t smell bad.
6-year-old: I can never do that. My toots always smell. They smell like rotten broccoli.
3-year-old: I have swim trunks and a penis.
Me: What?
3-year-old: I have swim trunks and a penis.
Husband: I think what he’s trying to say is he has no underwear on.
