Hailey (5): “Mommy, this morning I started off on the wrong foot.”
Me: “Oh yeah? Which foot would that be?”
Hailey: The one that’s not thinking straight.
Momma, look, I’m doing a rollersault!
— Louisa, 3-year-old, performing her first somersault.
NKL (7): “Dad, vegetables taste reaaally bad, they s*** big time!”
Me: “Why do you talk like this?!”
NKL: Hmm… because I’m honest?
Me: “Hi baby!”
Louise (2): Me not baby, me LOUISE!
Exhume me
— my 4-year-old girl’s pronunciation of “excuse me.”
November 40th!
— Noah, when asked when his birthday is.
I can do it weller than you!
— Lina, age 4, as we’re splashing in the water.
Elevator! Elevator!
— Margaux, age 4, after I asked her to call the elevator.
We’re at a pizzeria. My 6-year-old suggests I get the four-cheese pizza. I tell him there might be too much cheese for me in that one, to which he answers: Order a three-cheese pizza!
We’re in Venice, Italy, on a vaporetto (water bus), and there’s a bell pepper floating in the canal. Adrian, my 7-year-old son, points at it and laughs: Mummy look, I didn’t know peppers were seafood!
Mommy, you said it would be a shot; instead, it was a needle!
— a boy, overheard at the hospital.
A little boy was in a relative’s wedding. As he was coming down the aisle he would take two steps, stop, and turn to the crowd (alternating between bride’s side and groom’s side), put his hands up like claws, and roar. Step, step, ROAR, step step, ROAR, all the way down the aisle. The crowd was near tears from laughing so hard by the time he reached the pulpit. The little boy, however, was getting more and more distressed from all the laughing and was almost crying by the time he reached the pulpit. When asked what he was doing, the child sniffed and said: I was being the Ring Bear.
A father was reading Bible stories to his young son. He read: “The man named Lot was warned to take his wife and flee out of the city, but his wife looked back and was turned to salt.” His son asked: What happened to the flea?
My mother says to look for a man who is kind. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll find somebody who’s kinda tall and handsome.
— Carolyn, age 8.
I’m not an oxymoron!
— age 7.
