Grandma, why can’t I put orange soda in my porridge? — Jori, age 5.
NKL (7): “Dad, vegetables taste reaaally bad, they s*** big time!”
Me: “Why do you talk like this?!”
Hmm… because I’m honest?
Dad, where are his batteries? — my son, after playing for a while with a Jack Russell puppy.
Liver must be good for vegetarians! — after hearing that liver contains a lot of protein.
Me: “Are you asleep?”
Mommy, mommy, look! A horse! — a 3- or 4-year-old child seeing me walk by with my dog, a Bull Terrier (Target’s mascot).
NK (7): “Dad, I’m gonna dig a hole in the garden.”
NK: “Can I paint it black?”
Cool! It will suck all the light around and earth will collapse into it because of, you know, gravity.
Me: “Hi baby!”
Me not baby, me LOUISE!
My 7-year-old is a terrible singer. In order to increase his interest in singing, I show him several astonishing Britain’s Got Talent performances: kids singing, opera singers, gospel choruses. His eyes sparkle, he’s thrilled. Then he turns to me and says:
Daaad! When I grow up… I want to become Simon Cowell!
Not my favorite! — Aidan (9 years old tomorrow)’s answer when he doesn’t like or want what is being offered; Trump included.
I’m the best at dyslexia — Rick, age 9.
My daughter (4) who’s very fond of my new husband: “Are you going to divorce him?”
Me: “Of course not, why do you ask?”
Because I would never find another mother as nice as you!
I ask my 10-year-old daughter if her room is clean. She answers:
Depends on who’s judging.
After what seemed like hours of answering question after question (“why this,” “why that,” … ), every response being followed up with another question, I eventually told my 5-year-old boy: “I don’t know.” He proceeded, unfazed:
Why don’t you know?
Exhume me — my 4-year-old girl’s pronunciation of “excuse me.”