Husband: You’re being a pest.
8-year-old: Well, then, call pest control.
Me [under my breath]: How I wish it were that easy.
Me [Turning out the lights in their bedroom]: You lost the privilege of a longer reading time, because you’re playing instead of reading.
3-year-old: I want to read.
Me: You had a chance to read. Now you have to take a nap.
3-year-old: I telling Daddy you not having dinner.
Me:
3-year-old:
Me: Good thing you don’t make the rules.
5-year-old [marching from the bathroom with one green flip flop and a bare foot]: I am the master of poo!
While Husband is clipping his toenails:
5-year-old: Daddy, are you clipping your toenails?
Husband: Yeah.
5-year-old: I bite my toenails.
Husband: Oh, really?
5-year-old: And then I swallow them.
Husband:
5-year-old:
Husband: Don’t tell Mama, okay?
Just after getting home:
9-year-old: Who’s going to check the upstairs for monsters?
Me [laughing out loud]: Jadon. You’re silly.
9-year-old: Did you just volunteer, Mama?
Me:
9-year-old:
Me: What kind of monsters?
9-year-old: I just dislocated my jaw, I think.
Me: Do you think it’s because you talk so much?
9-year-old:
Me:
9-year-old:
Me:
9-year-old: I don’t think so. I think it’s because I yawn too big.
Leaving late from a Christmas party:
6-year-old: It’s stuck! I can’t get it in!
Me [giggling, to husband]: That’s what she said.
6-year-old: I need help! I can’t do it!
Me [giggling harder]: That’s what she said.
6-year-old: Daddy, my seat belt won’t buckle! Help!
Me [giggling hysterically]: That’s what she said.
Husband: OK, you’re taking this too far. I think we had you out in public too long.
