March is a huge month for birthdays in our family – there are nine among our extended family. When Miles turned three a couple weeks ago, we dusted off the courage-for-immunizations talk.
Last Friday my six-year-old stood before the calendar and exclaimed, “Mom! It’s your birthday!” Suddenly his expression turned somber. “I’m sorry to say it’s your turn to be brave for shots.”
We’re trying not to let the dread of shots put a damper on our month, or the outlandish election year coverage around every media corner. I have to say, this promise from my friend Daniele’s daughter sounds a bit like some of the mumbo jumbo I’ve been hearing on the news lately…
Save the cuchrerees!
Abby, you might just have my vote come November.
Enjoy the rest of these quotes submitted by the parents of some truly hilarious kiddos.
My youngest son, Miles, is two-and-a-half — one of my favorite ages.
Kids this age crack me up as they transition from the baby stage to the kid stage. Miles has this staccato way of talking that makes me want to video-record every sentence.
Recently, our neighbors spotted a cougar on their trail camera, and we have all been more cautious in the woods and yard because of it. A few days ago, Miles asked me to carry him from the car to the house in the dark so the “Too-ger” wouldn’t get him.
Once inside, he puffed his chest up and said, “Guess what, Mama,” emphasizing every word, “If I ever see that too-ger, I’m going to Hulk-mash him and throw him in a bol-cano full of hot lava.”
You’ve heard it before: having children changes everything.
But it does. It really, truly does.
It prompts you to say things you never imagined having to say. Things like, “Please stop chasing after me with your wiener.” Things like, “No, I will not blow up the balloon you just pulled from your underwear.” Continue reading →
After eating Sun Chips with his eyes closed and head bobbing, Reed (4 years old) fell asleep on the table at Subway. His mom carried him, snoring, to the car, and buckled him in. A mile down the road, he awoke and screamed, “Where’s my CHIPS?”