I haven’t done a Things My Kids Said post since February—which is kind of ridiculous considering the fact that my kids regularly say absolutely hilarious (and absurd) things.
Ellie is particularly funny these days (both on purpose and accidentally), as you’ll be able to see from the ten random thoughts I collected from her over the last month or so…
What is it with Daniel Tiger? Any kid I know who has watched that guy is completely mesmerized by him. And any mother I know spends her days singing his songs in hopes of somehow dislodging them from her brain.
I might not remember what I’m supposed to do today, but I sure as hell can sing to you about getting to the potty on time.
The more I thought about this, the more I began to believe that that tricky little tiger has an ulterior motive.
The Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood website says that “Through imagination, creativity and music, Daniel and his friends learn the key social skills necessary for school and for life.” What they neglect to mention is that he’s also sending out secret messages to moms.
You’ve heard some of the things my kids have said. They’re pretty hilarious and out there and sometimes brutally honest. But one day, as I was giving my wild one a stern talking to for trying to put my iPhone into her Pull-Up before bed, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. Hard. And I realized that it’s not just kids that say the darndest things. It’s parents too.
On preschool nights Ellie has the worst time falling asleep. So many thoughts and conversations are swirling around in her little head and she just can’t shut them up.
I’ll read her a story (hopefully one that does not include Barbie) and get her all snuggled in bed and she’ll keep popping her head up, remembering a mermaid Katie brought in for show and tell or how the new boy didn’t know the rules (“He got up when we were in the circle, momma!”).
By the time her eyelids start drooping, I’m pretty sure she has given me a play-by-play of her entire school day.
I came downstairs one night, particularly exasperated at the length of time it took for her to fade and my husband just stared at me, smirking.
“Apples and trees, my friend.”
I looked at him in exaggerated horror. “What are you implying?”
I remember the first time I kissed a boy. I was in first grade (floozy!) and huddled with some of my friends on the playground at recess. They dared me to walk up to Jacob Goldman*, tap him on the shoulder, and plant one on him. I don’t remember why first graders were thinking about kissing or why they chose Jacob in particular (proximity? friendly demeanor? gorgeous curls?), I just know that I marched right up to him, interrupted his basketball game and did it. I ran back to my friends, my hand over my mouth in a fit of giggles. Jacob was red cheeked and confused. I felt pretty bad ass. Until I got on the bus at the end of the day.
Mike Prescott, one of Jacob’s friends and one of the boys who was playing basketball with him, caught me in his sights as soon as he got on the bus. He walked up to my sticky green pleather seat and said “You kissed Jacob.” I burst into giggles again, unable to control myself. He seemed less amused and just shook his head. “You know, that’s how you get AIDS.” He walked away and my face dropped.