What's your current favourite kid story? Mine is in my entry for today, and I think it's a hoot. You can tell one on yourself if you haven't got any children.

-- Kymm (hedgehog@hedgehog.net), July 10, 2000

Answers

My son was still at the highchair age when we went over to my parents' house one day. We were all (except Teague) having margaritas; he was having whatever he was eating at the time. He saw us squeezing the limes into our drinks and let us know that he wanted one, so we gave it to him, he bit it, and made the predicted funny face.

Then he bit it again. And made another face.

And again. and another face.

He must have bit into that lime about nine times, hoping to get through to the part that was so good that we all wanted it in our drinks...

-- Colin (ethilrist@prodigy.net), July 10, 2000.

When my older brother was little, he used to talk to himself when he was being bad. Basically, he gave a running commentary on what he was doing.

"I really want a cookie. I can't reach. I'm getting a chair. I'm climbing up on the chair..."

Mom would let him get just far enough before she went and caught him red-handed.

My brother, the criminal mastermind.

-- Laura (windmills@diaryland.com), July 10, 2000.

I don't remember doing this, but my grandfather swears it is the God honest truth.

Our family has two reunions per year. During the summer reunion my grandpa and I were going through the buffet line together. When we reached the end of the table where the desserts were kept, grandpa asks me, "What kind of cake do you think that is?".

Being three at the time he was expecting an answer like "Chocolate" or something. I, pragmatic as ever, replied without a moments hesitation, "I believe that's a Duncan Hines."

-- DinoNeil (nheidorn@hotmail.com), July 10, 2000.

My hubby and I were discussing whether or not to replace the carpeting downstairs when our two and a half year old daughter wandered by. He asked her "Should we replace the carpeting?" She very seriously looked around at the floor, then back up at him, kinda scrunched her face up and said "No, Daddy. This just fine for us."

I'll go now before I think of a hundred other funny kid stories about our daughter, it wouldn't take much. :)

-- Kelli Jelly Bean (jellybean@dsl.telocity.com), July 11, 2000.

I had this weird surreal conversation with my son when he was about three. He kept pointing out that the buildings we were driving past weren't real. I said, they're real, they're solid, you can't see through them, that means they're real. He insisted they weren't real buildings, and I finally figured out that his idea of 'real buildings' meant the kind of buildings with faces and eyes (like the ones in Toon Town in Roger Rabbit), which moved and talked and things like that. Those were the real buildings. What we deal with on a daily basis are poor imitations, just false fronts.

-- Colin (ethilrist@prodigy.net), July 11, 2000.

I went to see my friend Sue a few days ago, and I said to her 2-yr-old son, "Nicholas, I Iike your haircut!"

"Thanks!" he said, running his hand over his head. "My daddy made it!"

-- Amy Lester (amy@petdance.com), July 11, 2000.

My mother told me this funny about when she and my dad took their grandsons, then aged 4 and 3 out to TCBY one evening. They were having an hilarious time laughing almost non-stop about little jokes, the way kids laugh. So much so, in fact, that Evan, the youngest, wasn't eating his yogurt faster than it was melting. Finally he stood up on his chair, spread his arms, and said "NO TALKING!" so frustrated was he.

-- Robert (rbdimmick@earthlink.net), July 11, 2000.

Our now-30 year old breastfed for a long time, well past the age when he could talk. I still remember the day he jumped into my lap, folded his hands and solemnly said "God is great, God is good. Let us thank him for our food. Today we're gonna have...NURSE!"

-- Bev Sykes (basykes@dcn.davis.ca.us), July 11, 2000.

when i was about two years old, my family went out to an italian restaurant. my mom was holding me and in the middle of the crowded lobby i screamed "mommy asshole!". i dont remember it at all and i think they just tell the story to make me feel bad. of course, my use of the word asshole has only increased, as well as many other choice expletives.

-- Linsey (writergirl76@hotmail.com), July 12, 2000.

two stories:

Story number one: When my oldest was doing that potty training shtick she was younger than most kids doing the same thing . . . just 15 months. But she was quite smart and well . . . annnnnyway . . .

One time when she was sitting on the pot she passed a little gas. Her eyes got so big and she got a little grin on her face as she announced, "Scoose me! Potty burp!"

Story number two: My 5th child, Kolya, who we adopted from Moscow (age 6) was still learning basic language skills and pronunciation about six months after we got him home. One afternoon he came into the kitchen while I was visiting with a bunch of people from church and announced (much to my horror) that he wanted "Ass-hole juice please!"

Translation: "Apple Juice please!"

-- Tracey (a.k.a. MOM) (icemouse@mdvl.net), July 12, 2000.

My brother told me he was changing his daughter in her bedroom while she was laying on the changing table. Jenna looked up and started to giggle. "You're funny" she said. "Who's funny Jenna?" "That man." she said and pointed to the ceiling. Also about three years ago, right after my dad died, my sister-in-law was getting the kids into the car. My SIL got in and Jenna said "Look there's grandpa." "Where's Granpa Jenna?" "He's coming over to the car." My SIL said she tore ass out of that parking lot. My neices and nephews aren't funny, their psycho : )

-- Amy T. (als918@aol.com), July 12, 2000.

Jeez, when did my sense of English, spelling, grammer, and punctuation fly out the window.

-- Amy T. (als918@aol.com), July 12, 2000.

Many, many, many years ago I was visiting my friend Karen. We were in the kitchen chatting and all the kids (3-6 year range) were in the front room playing. We heard an argument break out between her two daughters over posession of some desireable. Karen's youngest, Becky, came stomping into the kitchen whining "Mooooomeeee, Amanda won't give me the " Karen firmly stated that she and her sister were just going to have to work this out between themselves. Becky humphed at us a little then marched back into the living room where we heard her loudly announce to her sister "Mom said you had to give it back to me"

-- Eileen (Naticaa@aol.com), July 12, 2000.

When my daughter, Katie, was three or four, my wife took her shopping. Katie noticed the plastic theft-prevention thingies on the dresses and asked about them. My wife explained that they were there so no one could steal the dresses. Satisfied, Katie wandered off quietly for a minute until she came upon a dress that was missing the now-familiar device. "Mommy, mommy," she called, within hearing range of a gaggle of other customers and sales clerks, "here's one you can steal".

-- Jon Arthur (zanne1504@aol.com), July 12, 2000.

My sister was holding her sleeping 7-month-old daughter and drinking a beer. Suddenly her daughter woke up and immediately reached for the beer.

-- Catherine (catcoicrit@earthlink.net), July 13, 2000.

Always big on telling my son the proper names for body parts and functions, we'd pretty much covered the genitalia and differences between boys and girls when he was three. However, he was thoroughly enamoured with this information, and once stood at the foyer dais in a Chinese restaurant, and announced to a full lunch crowd (and to my horrow) "I have a PENIS. And MOMMY does NOT!"

-- Saundra (headspace@anywherebeyond.com), July 14, 2000.

Also to my horror. Fuck. I never babytalk!

-- Saundra (headspace@anywherebeyond.com), July 14, 2000.

My husband decided to talk to our almost 3 year old daughter about how no one should be touching her and how she should tell someone if that happens. I was listening to the conversation and knew he was going overboard but didn't want to interfere.

For a while after that, any time we came in contact with a stranger, my daughter would tell the person that they were not allowed to touch her pookie.

-- Susan (housewifey@hotmail.com), July 15, 2000.

My 4-year-old son, Will, loves pizza. He is also very physically demonstrative, hugging and kissing us all constantly.

So when we were at my mom's house a couple weeks ago and the pizza delivery guy, a 6'2" burly black teenager, rang the doorbell, Will opened the door, ran outside and threw his arms around the pizza guy's legs, to the poor guy's confusion.

Later we told him you don't hug strangers, but he refused to admit that the guy who brings pizza could possibly be a stranger.

-- deb (deb@io.com), July 15, 2000.

The other day my 10-year-old came home from swimming lessons sniffing, and said, "Boy I have a runny nose". I said, "Yeah, maybe just the chlorine in the pool", and started to walk away. Before I got out of earshot, though, I heard him sniff and few more times and then say to himself, "Nope. Definitely snot."

-- Jody (jody@vilandre.com), July 17, 2000.

When my youngest was potty training, we were at a distinct disadvantage because we couldn't convince him to tell us when he needed to go to the bathroom. He was old enough to understand and he was usually fine when we were at home, but he tended to clam up around strangers. Shopping was the worst because there were so many strangers around, he'd never say a peep. We kept emphasizing that he *must* tell us and he *must* say it loud enough for us to hear him so we didn't have any accidents.

A couple of weeks later, my mom, myself and both boys were Christmas shopping. The lines were horribly long and I had about six billion packages, plus the stroller, diaper bag, purse and a handful of things I needed to buy. After about a thirty minute wait, I was finally next to check out. Jake was wearing the training pants (not diaper) and took that moment to squat down in the aisle and shout at the top of his lungs, "MOMMY I HAVE TO POO POO," which he was about to proceed to do. I dropped everything, snatched him up and hurdled three old ladies and two sales racks to get him to the bathroom in time.

When we got back to the line, everyone applauded him. The kid thought that was *wonderful* and it took me *weeks* to teach him he didn't need to shout it, especially in restaurants.

-- --toni (toni@la-lagniappe.com), July 17, 2000.

One more story ~

On occasion I would volunteer at my daughter's pre-school. It just so happened that on day that I was there, we all took a walk around the block. My daughter who was just 4 and a half, being ever so pleased to have me along, was holding my hand and gabbing away about every thing that she saw . . . asking a million questions about all the different places and buildings.

As we walked past a local real-estate office she pointed at the building and said, "What is that place Mommy?" I explained that that was where a they rent and sold houses from in our town.

She became very, very quiet and got a puzzled look on her face. A few minutes later she looked up at me and asked, "Do they really sell houses there?" I said "Yes."

Then she asked, "How do they fit them through the door?"

-- Tracey (icemouse@mdvl.net), July 18, 2000.

My funniest kid story took place when my oldest (now 9) was 3. He was noticing that the sky in Florida, where we lived, got dark and gray everyday in the middle of the afternoon all summer, almost like clockwork.

"Who makes the sky change colors?" he asked. "Well, the sky changes colors because there are rain clouds up there," I explained. "I know, but who does it?" he asked. "Um. God." I said finally, deciding not to try to explain the science of it to my three year old. He sat in silence for a half minute then turned to me, with bright eyes and excitedly announced, "I want to be a God guy when I grow up, Mommy!"

I want to support my kids to be whatever they want to be but that's pushing it, even I have to admit.

-- Tynan (ty@power-lines.com), July 18, 2000.

When my youngest child was about 5, we went on a family picnic to Mt. Rainier. Toby couldn't bear to be without TV for too long so he found himself a flat rock and anounced it was the "remoke" and aimed it at a right-sized bush and he punched up his favorite show. Dinah, the oldest at 9, could not bear for him to be in charge of anything for very long. She grabbed the rock and "changed the channel" to her favorite show. Tobe ran back to us crying: "Dinah won't let me watch what I want on the bush!!!"

-- Karen (phgreen@uswest.com), July 19, 2000.

When my sister was about 3 she, my Mom, and I went to visit a local store where we knew the owners. The woman who owned the store had just had a baby and Mom was holding it, cuddling it, and doing all the things you do with a newborn baby. My sister got anxious and said, "Mom, don't buy the baby. Put it back on the shelf."

-- Jamie (jamie@carnalmonkeys.com), July 20, 2000.

When I was near the age of 2, my folks owned a small casino in Carson City, NV where we lived above the restaurant area. My grandmother was visiting and she and my mom were counting all the coins from the slots on the kitchen table. I was sitting in my high chair being the adorable and charming child my mother swears I once was (!).

Apparently, I had just learned to mimic words and was particulary enthralled with saying numbers. So as they meticulously counted each pile of coins, I happily called out "Two, seven, four, one, three, two, etc." Seems that I was quite unhappy and bewildered when I was suddenly put down for a nap at 10:30 in the morning and stood in my crib and SHOUTED numbers at the top of my little lungs!

-- julie nicolay (julienicolay@hotmail.com), July 20, 2000.