Talk about your kids

[Keith Inc.]

So, the three of them (ages 12, 17 and 12) are cleaning the bathroom. Not the weekly chore, but more like spring cleaning.

Suddenly, there is a ripping sound, a HORRENDOUS crash, a thud that shakes the house and a clatter.

No cries of pain, but the oldest, without missing a beat, shouts, "And that's why we don't DO that!"

I look to the wife on the sofa. "Wanna find out what that was?"

"Not until blood is in evidence," she said, wriggling more comfortably into the cushions.

[Keith Inc.]

Someone asked at school, when my youngest was five, who was tougher, mommy or daddy.

He thought for about five seconds. "Mommy is."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Daddy is in the Navy. He screams, shouts, and punishes us and his sailors. But mommy can make him say 'Yes, Ma'am.'"

Teacher called us to share this report.

[Keith Inc.]

So, we're at the mother-in-law's birthday party. It's in a motel, one we have a room in.

The twins are two years old, and fractious. I valiently offer to take them to our room for a nap. Wife takes the 7 year old to help grandma unwrap packages.

I put them down on the floor, on a mattress, and read by the light of the bathroom at the other end of the motel room.

After about 45 minutes i hear:

Youngest twin: (stage whisper) Older!

Oldest twin: (grunt) mmmmm.

Y: (stage whisper) Older! Get up!

O: (grunt)Mmmmm.

Y: (stage whisper) Get up!

O: (loud and clear) No.

There was some shuffling on the mattress. Then some more. Then Y started shaking O.

O hauled off and slapped Y silly.

Y: WAAAAAAAAAAH!!

Daddy: Aw, poor baby. But you did ask for it, didn't you?

[Leonhart29]

My oldest and I were out shopping while I was pregnant with the two youngest ones one fine morning - and I say that because it was one of the last times I could actually fit behind the wheel. I had stopped to pick up some fresh jalapenos while the little 9 month old was busy chattering away at herself and I had a small corner of my mind open to picking out the best ones when I hear my darling daughter's first word.

Now let me explain something - the father of my children is as foul mouthed as they come, but I honestly didn't think a 9 month old would pick up on it. I was young and stupid - I'll admit it.

Anyway, I was allowing most of my attention to wander over the dark green peppers in my hand when I heard the worst word (according to my mother) float out of my angel's mouth, and she said it over and over and over again in the sing song voice I often used when I spoke to her.

The way the lady with the stick up her ass and her hands on the peaches was looking at me you would think that she had never heard "Fuck" before.

I chose to ignore it as her voice got louder and louder while I finished picking up the rest of the goodies I needed. By the time we got out of Albertson's she was screaming it at the top of her lungs, having a wonderful time and I was at a loss as to how I could stop it. You can't very well tell a baby that she shouldn't use that word because it was "naughty".

When I got home I marched into the house and plopped her on "Daddy's" lap, told him I hoped he was proud of himself and proceeded to unload the groceries. You know - I've never been back in that store - rotten sales.

[Keith Inc.]

Heh.

My oldest was four when we drove down to pick mommy up at work.

I got cut off. I don't really recall saying anything but...

Well, after we got Mom in the car, drove back home. Got cut off again.

"MORON!" i shouted.

"No, Daddy," the kid in the carrier says, "he's a sock-fucking bastard."

"Ah...a-heh. Um, uh...."

[Nanaea]

Yesterday at the table:

9yo: *complains that he couldn't read his brothers handwriting to copy his science definitions; then admits that he wasn't really paying attention.*

12yo: That's your problem.

9yo: Well, at least I don't have your problem.

12yo: Oh really, what is my problem?

9yo: I don't know what it is, because I don't have it!

[Leonhart29]

My oldest child was off from school on Monday and as fate had it she was grounded to her room for a fist fight she had with her sister. To try and drown out the noise of her constant complaining I made her close her door. Well, apparently she had had something to eat that didn't agree with her. Now a normal 11 year old would probably have said something if they had to go to the bathroom right? Not my oldest - no - she sat there on her bed and slowly tried to gas herself to death.

As it had been very quiet for quite sometime I decided that I needed to go and check on her. I opened the door and there she was, laying on her belly, reading a book and very quietly giggling to herself. I swear I have NEVER smelled something that bad in my life. If my hair hadn't been straight already it would have been straight after I walked in there.

My oldest started laughing so hard at the look on my face that she started motor boating. I think the bed moved about five inches from the wall. And people keep telling me my little angles will grow out of this facination with farts - I haven't seen it happen yet.

[Keith Inc.]

I think it'll work much the way i gave up on teaching my kids how to eat spaghetti.

I mean, as long as they don't get the sauce on me, or the china cupboard, i don't care anymore.

I figure they'll date, eventually. Then she, whoever she is, will be motivated, empowered and in a position to correct their dumb asses. And she'll be much better motivation for them, as well.

[Leonhart29]

I can just see it now. My sweet little girl on her first date, letting one rip and then giggling as her date gags and passes out. I don't think any one can break her of her wind breaking tendancies.

[Keith Inc.]

Well, i have all boys, and a military background. When they rip, i rip louder. The wife leaves, but we have fun.

My middle one plans, during the next standardized testing, to eat spiced octopus in the morning before, hoping to empty the classroom a few hours later. I almost drove myself out of my own car from octopus and Mountain Dew Farts one time. he heard the story and immediately thought: Worst smell you EVER smelt, eh?

[Leonhart29]

Just don't tell him about beer and hard boiled eggs - throw in some deep fried chicken livers and you'll know why my ex-husband really went bald.

[Oishiichan]

My oldest is son 12 years old, his nick name is Boo Boo because when he was a toddler he was always hurting himself in the most interesting ways. He was barely 8 months old when he managed to climb out of a crib after I laid him down for a nap and do a nose dive onto the floor causing him to have a severe bloody nose and me to rush him into the ER. Now the mattress was on the lowest setting possible int he crib and the side bar was as high up as it could go, the way he climbed out was to somehow pull up all the bedding and pile it one corner before launching himself over the side. Scared me senseless.

Advance to 14 months old, he is now walking and toddling about, I have a wood picnic table in my backyard, my friends and I are outside he tumbles down gets covered in dirt and scraps up his hands. I sit him on top of the picnic table and use baby wipes to clean him off, one of my friends brings him a pop sickle to suck on while I washed his knees and shins. Once I was done I turn around to put the wipes back int he diaper back and he decides to climb down all by himself while trying to lick pop sickle. Now he slips bangs his chin on the table top and literally bites the tip of his tongue so that it is hanging by the nerves and skin on the bottom. Screaming hollering and bleeding all over the place we manage to get a terry washcloth with ice cubes inside his mouth to hold it together and rush him to the hospital. They knock him out and stitch his tongue back on, he has a scar today where there are no taste buds as proof of his oopsy daisy.

My youngest son is 7 and his nick name is pooh bear. When he was 7 months old my father in law (Who was I staying with as my husband was off doing a military thing for the summer and he needed someone to watch my sister in law while he was at work and school was out) thought it would my sons allergies if we put a tablespoon of natural honey into his rice cereal. We have no idea if it worked on his allergies but it did give him incentive to become more mobile. He would intently watch that brown crockery jar as my father in law put the sweet stuff into his breakfast, and knew where it was kept. (Middle shelf of a turnstile cabinet.) Now he all the sudden goes from crawling to walking along furniture very carefully. One day I was helping my oldest son and his aunt to set up a painting area on the porch, Sandor the youngest was in his play pen and I could see him through the sliding glass door which was open. Suddenly I look in and he is not in the play pen anymore which of course causes me to run inside and frantically look about. I hear a happy burble and a giggle from the kitchen. I run in thinking he had crawled in there after Dad's big old orange and white mancoon and find my son happily sitting down jar of honey between his legs, one fist covered in sticky goo while he sucked on it merrily, honey dripping down his baby t-shirt, his little feet locked at the ankles around the jar..

[Leonhart29]

The latest thing to happen to my happy little family involved my youngest (a fifth grader) and a bully (a third time eight grader). Apparently (and from at least fifteen eye witness accounts) this 8th grader was calling my daughter a whore and a retard. My daughter finally had enough of it and turned around (in the breakfast line) and called her a retard - then all hell broke loose.

My oldest daughter (6th grade) tore out of the cafeteria to find a teacher and this loudmouth girl cold cocked my other one. My sweet little child (who only stands 5'1") started kicking the other girl to get her off of her and once she had a little room made a run for it. Miss hits a lot got her in the back of the head with a roundhouse and then proceeded to straddle her and whale on my daughter while she was on the floor.

Now, my little one has two black eyes, a swollen nose and a lump on the back of her head the size of Austin. The shit stirrer on the other hand doesn't even have a scratch on her. When the teacher broke it up the 8th grader jumped up and said "I didn't touch her! She started it when she kicked me! I wasn’t doing anything!"

They both ended up in In School Suspension for 3 days - together in the same room. I understand the whole "Zero tolerance for fighting" rule, but since when is it okay for a principle to punish a little girl for protecting herself? I asked her what my girl should have done. Her answer?

"Lay down and take it until someone gets there to break it up." I told her that my daughter had my permission to defend herself and we'd see her in ISS over and over again if it ever happened again.

Oh well, I guess it’s time for boxing classes. Hopefully she’ll be able to knock the shit out of this creep so fast no one will know what happened if she goes after her again.

[StoryJunkie]

whoa.

I don't think my kids ever did anything like that. There were play-ground scuffles, I suppose, but holy cow, that's awful. I'd ask for a written report! and then get the super involved!

My youngest tells me about her dreams, so I get a story every morning when there's time (usually on the weekend), so my StoryJunkie is satisfied. But things are kinda rocky on the husband/wife front, and so I cannot remember really, anything anyone has told me for the past couple days except to dwell upon my own stupidity and wonder if I really am losing brain cells at a faster rate than usual. *sucks thumb and grabs blankie

[Leonhart29]

My children actually requested to help me this weekend with a few chores. This is not a normal occurance and like almost any other parent I'm going to say "Sure!" Why look a gift horse in the mouth right? Anyway, I'm out there trying to prime the siding for the side of the house and cut them and hang them when my little darlings offered their services.

"Okay" I thought - the easiest and safest thing would be to have them paint, so I sent them in to change into old clothes and put them to work while I weilded the circular saw, and the nail gun and the hammer - well you get the idea. I was half way up the ladder trying to hang the stupid thing when I hear some giggling and footsteps approaching. I know the warning signs, but as my hands were full and my mouth was overflowing with nails I couldn't do anything until it was too late.

I felt the cold wet WHITE paint seep through the fabric of my shorts and my daughters colapsing with laughter. I called my ex-stepfather to come and finish the job for me - my excuse? "I'm sick - I just shit my pants with wet paint and now my ass is white." He finally quit laughing long enough to come over, and my kids? Poop patrol once again in the back yard. Me? I plan on sitting in turpintine later on tonight once I've pried my panties off of my ass.