posted by Momo Fali on June 25, 2009
The other day my seven year old son came in the room where I was reading and proudly announced, “I just peed in the bathtub!”
I put down the newspaper. “What? Why?”
“Because my sister was using the toilet and I needed to pee really bad.”
This conversation would make perfect sense…if we didn’t have two other toilets.
The next afternoon, he was eating some grapes when he dropped his entire bowl on the floor. Because we have two dogs, there is no such thing as a five-second rule in this house. My husband told him to go wash off the grapes before eating any more of them.
After a few minutes my son returned with any empty bowl.
I asked, “Where are your grapes?”
“I put them down the drain.”
I hesitantly asked, “In the kitchen sink?”
“No. In the bathroom.”
My BBQ skewers have never come in so handy.
posted by Momo Fali on June 19, 2009
My daughter and son recently stayed at my mom’s house for the night and she treated them to dinner at a local restaurant.
The three of them were seated in a booth directly next to two men. My mom said that one of guys looked very disheveled, and the other had a beard down to his waist.
As much as my mom told him not to, my seven year old son could not stop staring. Finally, one of the men started to talk to my boy.
And, because my mom knows my son’s history, she quickly turned to the bearded man and said, “You probably shouldn’t ask him any questions. He’s very honest.”
Nice, Mom. Now we know where my son learned how to be so subtle.
posted by Momo Fali on June 17, 2009
My seven year old son is blatantly honest. This boy once told a cashier that she looked like a fish and told a TV repairman that he looked like Santa because of his big, round belly.
He has mentioned to a good friend of mine that she has a huge forehead, he touched the face of my husband’s co-worker and told her that he liked her “little mole” and he once saw two Muslim women wearing headscarves, mistook those headscarves for bandannas, and then called them both pirates.
I never know what he will say.
The other day our puppy, Daisy, wouldn’t stop throwing up. After a trip to the vet, a half-dozen x-rays and a barium study, her doctor sent us home with some special canned food and a bottle of Pepcid.
That afternoon, my son was sitting on my lap when he eyed one of Daisy’s toys sitting on the floor; a ball you fill with kibble that she can roll around until the treats fall out.
He asked, “Can I put some little bones in Daisy’s ball?”
I replied, “No. Not today, buddy. She can’t have anything hard right now. The vet gave us those cans because the food inside is soft and squishy.”
Then he ran his hand up my sleeve and said, “Oh. Like your arms.”
posted by Momo Fali on June 1, 2009
My son was sitting on my Mom’s lap eating some cherries when she said, “It’s good that you like cherries because they’re very good for you. If you have bad stuff in your body, they help get that bad stuff out.”
My son replied, “You mean, like if I swallowed a gun and then ate a cherry, it would help me poop it out?”
I would say he kind of gets the concept. Kind of.
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