My brother
was sat in the bath, at the age of about three, being washed by my Mum when suddenly he burst into tears. My Mum tries to calm him down, "What's the matter darling?"
"I don't want to grow up.." He suddenly stammers through the snot bubbles.
"But everyone has to grow up, that's how you become an adult..." She soothes.
"But I don't WANT boobies!!" He whails.

He's still a big pansy now, at 32.
(Kohoutek, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 20:11, 2 replies)

Kids share a common predatory theme......
....they all kick Mr Wimpy in the shin.

When I was a kid, we had a plethora of parents who decided to use a fast food rester aunt instead of their own home for hosting a party for the masses. Some parents didn't have the room; others most probs couldn't be fucked with it all (I know which category I'd fall into right now :p) but whatever the reason us kids all rejoiced at the news that we were going to visit "Mr Wimpy's House".

The weekend arrives (as it is not a school day), and us young-uns start polishing our shoes, much to the amusement of our parents who are a bit bewildered by this action. "Must be excited about the party" says mum, but what the fuck does she know?

We get into the car and venture off into the unknown, glaring out of the window knowing that the prey is almost within reach.....

We get dropped off in the city centre and start our hike to Wimpy. My mum is stopping me rushing, thinking "Aw, he's awfully excited about the party". Fuck the party, what does she know. I can smell the teenage scent of the costume wearing part-timer as it quakes from his anus. The prey is close.

We arrive at the double doors to Wimpy. I kick them open with one foot, as if Dirty Harry was running through my blood, veins popping from my then miniature skull. I spy and recognize other predators within the establishment; other kids from the class in school all with the same pre-occupied look in their eyes. Something is nagging at us. Something is calling us.

We go to the counter and a "salesman" points us in the direction of some stairs, leading downwards into a large Wimpy Party Room, but to us kids it was like the cellar in Fight Club. We were pumped. We were ready.

We walk in, eyes darting from sides to sides active in the hunt. More parents and kids come downstairs, the parents oblivious to the taste in their siblings mouthes. He is here, we are ready.

After a few minutes and the birthday kid's parents interlude the sacrifice arrived. "Look who'se coming kids?". Red. All I can see is red. And the bastard's fucking ankles.

The part-timer didn't have a chance. He (or she) managed to get one wave to the pack before 20+ seven year olds all run in and kick the holy fuck out of Mr Wimpy's ankles. A few of the wiser kids swarm around the back of the poor bastard to cut off the escape route while the others kick it like Beckham, and parents reluctanly slowly get up from their burgers to pull the kids slowly away from them (while trying not to laugh).

This is the singlemost reason why I would never work in a fast food building. If I did I'd be the cunt in the suit, and me legs couldn't take this punishment.

The sad thing is as a kid you could get away with this, but as an adult the manager calls the police, it's just not fair....
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 19:55, 2 replies)

No, not that sort of milk..
This happened a few years ago at my nephews 7th birthday party. It was all going as well as these things do, but one of the other 7yr old boys seemed to be a bit sad. So my mum (aged 70 then) asked him if he was okay. He said he wanted a drink of milk, so my mum took him into the kitchen and got the milk out of the fridge. 'no' he said 'not that sort of milk, that sort' as he pointed at her breasts...

Now I'm all for breast feeding, but what sort of 7yr old asks their friends grannies for a taste? Apparently he's still a strange boy..
( Wifey, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 19:55, 2 replies)

Onefish Minimus
Aged 6, was asked by his teacher at school to name a vegetable.
He replied "Ketamine".
I was so proud.
(onefishtwofish Redfishbluefish, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 19:54, 2 replies)

Starting them young
My 6 year old son was sitting in the bath and, as young (and old) boy's hands are wont to do he ended up fondling his love sack.

'What are these little balls Daddy?' he asked, and I launched into a biologically correct explanation of seeds, eggs, implantation, etc.

'No Daddy, they're brains', he said, and would hear no different. Proof that men's brains really are in their balls.
(Smale is stuffed, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 19:42, 1 reply)

vrooom
Until I was about 6, I used to think that cars were propelled along by the gas coming out of the exhaust pipe, like a rocket engine.
(Axeman Jim, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 19:41, 4 replies)

my little nephew
who was 2 at the time insisted on staying in auntieswipe's room when we were all on holiday in antigua over christmas.

i wasn't quite sure on the protocol and ended up wriggling into my clothes under a sarong a bit like a reverse striptease artist. freddie looked at me and said solemnly,

"you've got reeeally big boobies. i've only got little boobies."

typical bloke.

also, as i am currently the only single one out of the 3 swipe siblings (there are only so many family occasions at which i can snarl "it's through choice " before i start to look like linda blair [or worse, cherie blair]), i had gotten stuck with the twin bedded room. freddie could not get his little blond head around this.

"whose bed is it?" he said persistently. "why is noone sleeping in that bed?" hmmmm, i'd quite like to know the answer to that myself! AND being smug-marrieded by a 2 year old. i might as well change my name to bridget and have done with it. anyway, eventually i growled, "it's the spare bed," and dragged him off to the beach.

two days later he saw me sitting on the spare bed to put my shoes on.

"you not sit there," he admonished me gravely. "that's SPARE'S bed."

i have no idea who he thought that was...

ps: poor little thing was 3 last week. he spent his birthday in the hospital being circumcised (medical reasons) and his party toddling around like a baby john wayne... it's a shame!!!!
( rachelswipe with a fork, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 19:31, 8 replies)

My younger brother, when he was about 8, I think. Painful story guys.
We had family or friends staying round, so we had a 'zed-bed' shoved in our bedroom, to accommodate older brother while friends/family/people we didn't know, stole his room for a while.
Anyway, if anyone knows how dangerous these things are, you may guess what's coming, but you're wrong.
My brother sat on this thing, and one of the springs popped up, as he stood up, it caught his 'bag of love spuds' and ripped it open!!
I shit you not, it had torn it in half, from base of his nob all the way down.
He cried, I told mum that 'Chris has ripped his bollocks open'.
Still makes me cringe to this day, and it was nearly 20 years ago now.


One from my kids now.
My daughter is a real daddys girl, and I've always had difficulty in telling if she's ever not telling me the complete truth.
I read something somewhere, and used it on her, it worked a treat, but she's figured it out now.
When she was about 4, I told her that if she tells me a fib(why is that word only used with kids?) then a light turns on on her forehead that only mummy and daddy can see.
She started covering her forehead when she fed me complete bullshit from then on, worked a bloody treat. Unfortunately, she's now 7 and knows it doesn't work now.


Got loads about my little shitbags angels.
(Mensa Reject has gone out, I'll be back on, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 19:02, 2 replies)

My journal entry from last July.
It has been two years since I last celebrated my birthday. In two days time, I turn 33. An age which really to me doesn't matter now. I think at some point turning 30 mattered. Turning closer to another box on a questionaire used to matter. I was asked the other day how old I would be, and I had no idea...It surprised me to think I was that old.

A year ago, I refused to celebrate my birthday. It was one of the worst periods of my life. My wife was pregnant, and had hyperemesis, a condition where morning sickness was extreme, to the point of continual sickness, de-hydration and stays at hospital. It's hard to be happy for a birthday when your wife, partner and soulmate is busy to keep water down, giving life to something deep inside.

Pregnancy should be a time of happiness, and joy and all I remember at that time, whilst I was driving back home to an empty house after holding hair back and being in that hospital, around that 'smell' was "I want my wife back". After weeks of seeing her in that much pain, and all that suffering, all I thought was about how much I missed her. I didn't care about the pregnancy, I wanted my wife back.

In February when Edie was born, though we didn't know what sex she was at this point, she didn't breathe for two minutes. Two minutes. It doesn't sound a long time. It takes more time to boil an egg. You can travel a mile at 30mph. 1605 metres. Think about it, start two minutes and count 120 seconds. When your baby doesn't breathe for two minutes that is the longest period of your life. Those two minutes were all of the years which I might not have, the times I might not have, not even knowing the sex, what sort of life I would be having with them. All I knew then was all the time leading up to the birth I wasn't Dad or father. I was playing pretend about how I thought I should be feeling. The moment I realised that I might not be Dad was the moment I felt like Dad.

In less than a year, it went from wanting nothing more than my wife back to wanting to hear just one cry from Edie. And it came, quietly and tentatively.

And in two days I celebrate my birthday, with my wife and soulmate. And a little girl whose cry I hear every day.

Though now it's with a little more gusto.
(beatpig understands subliminalesbianmessagaying., Thu 17 Apr 2008, 18:55, 7 replies)

Milk
Went to visit my aunt, uncle and two cousins at their new house a few weeks ago. The three year old was describing everything in the room, then pointed at my boobs and said "that's where the milk is". I managed to supress my laughter, and swiftly changed the subject to something else.

And does anyone know why three year olds feel the need to remove their trousers and pants and run around half naked? Something to embarrass him with when he gets married methinks!
(ToysForBigBoys would spread her legs for Nick Clegg., Thu 17 Apr 2008, 18:48, 2 replies)

Flattery - kiddy style
My eldest daughter, when about 4 or so, was watching me dress one morning.

"Mummy, when I grow up, will I have big boobies like you?"

"Yes, darling, you will," replied a very flattered WeeWitch. Suffice to say, my (bra) cup does not runneth over.

"Mummy, will I have a big bottom like yours, too?"

I smiled bravely and went off to look up the orphanage's phone number.
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Thu 17 Apr 2008, 18:46, 3 replies)

This makes me want one. Possibly two.
My neighbour was filming as another neighbour had an old car removed from his back yard (finally, finally!). Her youngest child was playing with a toy that, for some reason, plays a rather country-sounding tune. It plays several annoying musical clips, actually, but she chose to mash this particular button as V let the camera roll and in a moment of child-created perfection, their actions merged.

This is the result:

s56.photobucket.com/albums/g171/julesnoctambule/?action=view¤t=Yeehaw_Zeecar.flv


The part not shown on the video is how every time we played it at their house, Lottie would grin broadly and say 'That's ME!' as soon as the music started, full of small-child joy. Bless.
(louveciennes , Volvospotter, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 18:44, 2 replies)

#2 The Entrepreneur
My youngest son (younger by a grand total of 2 minutes) is a budding entrepreneur.

Example 1
At the age of six he wanted to sell tickets around the village where we lived at the time so everyone could come and watch our cockerels have a punch up - I mentioned it here. I did tell him that Cock Fighting is illegal in the UK. He said he couldn't see why as they wanted to fight and he could make money from them....


Example 2
Last year he and his brother were both given £1 each by an elderly great aunt who then took them to a local boot fair. Both boys browsed the stalls and the elder picked out a skateboard he like the look of, but it was priced at 50p so he walked away to think about it. The young Alan Sugar jumps in, purchases the board in a deal with some matchbox cars and chases after his more thoughtful brother.

"Look!" he says, "I got the skateboard you wanted! And some cars!"

Yes, he does talk with exclamation marks, he's also irritatingly enthusiastic about everything.

His brother smiles as he thinks this is filial kindness and generosity....

"If you still want the skateboard I'll sell it to you for 75p."

He got the money.


Example 3
He's running some sort of racket at his primary school involving Yu-Gi-Oh cards - I'm not sure what's going on but he keeps coming back with money each day and more cards….

Example 4
He's very good at extortion. And he's amazing at mental arithmetic. I take them both to the local village shop on a Thursday afternoon after school - they both have 50p to spend. He always somehow ends up with more sweets for his money and his brother has less.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 18:32, 3 replies)

Diaper humor and three-year-olds.
It was a Saturday in the Loon household, and the boys, aged three and two, were playing in the kitchen as their mother cooked and their father was repairing something. As he worked, the mother was scraping the last of the chocolate pudding out of a mixing bowl, then wiped her finger around the bowl and proffered it to the dad.

The dad finds himself with a finger smeared with unidentified brown goo in front of his face and recoils.

"What's wrong?" asks the mother. "It's just chocolate pudding!"

"Oh," replies the dad. For a moment I thought you had stuck your finger down the younger one's diaper."

There was a moment's pause before the older son cracked up laughing in that way that only small children can manage. Having been in on the dad's joke, he decided to repay the honor by trying to tell jokes. Unfortunately he hasn't got the concept of joke-telling down yet.

"Hey Dad! Did you ever see a frog stick its face in a toaster? Get it?" *mad giggling* "Hey Dad! Did you ever see a cow in the moon? Get it?" *mad giggling*

This continued for a half hour...
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 17 Apr 2008, 18:28, Reply)

Back when my daughter was six she came up to me and said "You look nice today Daddy"
I thanked her then she said "I was beeee-ing sarcastic"

I guess she'd learnt a new word :(
(Chopper3, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 18:19, Reply)

If the Loon can Pearoast, then so can I...

Whilst using a communal bathroom at a campsite a while ago, I overheard a boy aged about 3 sat on a lavvy with the door open and his dad keeping watch.

Boy: Uuuurghh....urggghhhh...hurrrrgh
Dad: You alright son?
Boy: It's stuck.
Dad: Keep straining, son.
Boy: Dad, I've got POOSWEAT!

I had to tank it out of there. I will never be able to strain over a tricky Richard III again without thinking of that phrase
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Thu 17 Apr 2008, 18:16, Reply)

My greatest phobia
is replying to a QOTW on time.




Kill me now.
(littlenipple hate's bad grammar, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 18:16, Reply)

You can pick your friends, but you can't pick your family.
Mores the pity judging by my brother's reaction when I was born. Aged just 3 and a half, my grandmother introduced little baby me to him.
With a look of immense disgust he instructed "Next time Mummy goes to hospital, tell her to bring back someone I can play with."
(NJ, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 18:16, Reply)

Mispronunciation
I babysit a few kids once a week, including a set of twins who, having just learned to talk, pronounce a few things wrong. Last week one of them picked up a stick and proudly proclaimed "I got a little dick!" It's worst when they say it around another adult, leading to an uncomfortable silence.
( trintrin has jam for blood, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 18:12, Reply)

Too Cool For School (and me)
I once went with my cousin to pick her kids up from school while I was visiting. Naturally I'm the cool, fun 'uncle' that they love and adore but that doesn't stop me mercilessly winding them up as all proper adults should do. Seeing her SIX year old, Charlotte, wave goodbye to a boy was just too much to ignore.
"Oooooh who was that? Is he your boyfriend? Do you love him? Do you luuuuuuuuuuurrrrve him?" I said as soon as she'd got in the car.
"Don't be silly! That's Hugo. Just because I've snogged him a few times doesn't mean he's my boyfriend!"

Well that shut me up.

I mean, seriously, who calls their child Hugo?
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Thu 17 Apr 2008, 18:07, Reply)

A few years ago I let my (9yo at the time) son watch "Animal House" with me
A few weeks later a girl in his class brought her violin into school to do a 'show and tell', it was being passed around the class until it got to my son - he smashed it to pieces across the desk laughing maniacally, aping that scene in the film. We were both very much in trouble with wifey who didn't find any part of this funny at all - I had to pay for a new one and he had to write an apology letter too.
(Chopper3, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 18:01, Reply)

The mother of one of my sons mates at school was dying of cancer.
The teachers were talking about it to the whole class, preparing them I guess, when my son asked if they were going to put her in the ground or burn her like a witch. I've never been so proud.
(Chopper3, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 17:58, Reply)

Kids
They smell, they make noise, and you can't have a decent conversation with them.
(Captain Panic, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 17:51, 2 replies)

ruining family xmas since the 70`s
Xmas 1979, I was just 10 months old. seemingly i was in my high-chair being fed a wee bit of mashed up xmas dinner when I leaned forwards and shoved my hand into the pot of gravy. Dinner was cut short for the trip to hospital.

xmas 1980, wobbling around the room, reached out to steady myself and pulled the table-cloth off the table and smashed lots of glasses and plates over my head. Another xmas in casualty.

xmas 1985 i think, Siting down to the main meal, I ate something i didnt like. My dislike was so strong, i immediately vommed massively all over my plate and the surrounding table. Everyone else lost their appetite pretty quickly.

xmas 1986. didnt get what I wanted as a present and spent the rest of the day and the next few days alternating between weeping uncontrollably and being in a seriously foul temper.

xmas 1990, I got a ghetto-blaster, which I unwrapped and immediatly dropped (accidentally) and smashed it to bits. More tears and huffing.

I hate christmas. I also hate kids and plan on never having any so at least I wont have to go through all that shite again.
(dave likes cheese, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 17:47, Reply)

I was on a train not too long ago...
A child came and sat opposite me, shortly followed by its* mother. This child was not particularly young and had no visible abnormalities. Until the train started to pull away from the station.

At this point the child jumped up onto the seat and proceeded to bark at something outside of the window. Hmm, curious. Mother decided to distract the child with some snacks. Fine.

So then, there she sits, offering one treat at a time, with the dog child, eyes and mouth wide, staring with a look of desperation whilst drooling over itself.

Fantastic. Love** kids, me.


*Of unidentifiable gender.
**Love Kick

(BlackCat, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 17:47, Reply)

#1 Farting
Firstly I'll warn you all...this is going to be a long week. I've loads of children stories as I was one, I've got two, taught hundreds and was married to two. That's also why I'm going to number my responses this week - it'll also enable you to avoid my posts should you so wish.



*****
As many of you know I am a lady (not the landed gentry type) - I am fairly softly spoken, polite and well-behaved.
stop laughing at the back there

I don't ever break wind in public.




Unless...

Standing next to a child who is being irritating.

No one ever guesses it's the nice lady with the smiley face and curly hair.

Ha!
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 17:37, 1 reply)

A tale on my daughter when she was very young.
One July 4th we were at the fireworks and she was snuggled on my lap (it gets cold in the evening in the Adirondacks). Periodically she got up and moved about ten feet from me and stood for a few moments before coming back to my lap.

"What are you doing?" I whispered to her.

"I had to fart, Daddy."

Somehow these words coming from an angelic little blonde struck me as the funniest thing ever. For months after I referred to her as "Rumble-Butt".
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 17 Apr 2008, 17:36, 2 replies)

mrs spimf...
...is not fucking happy. really properly seriously not fucking happy.

now lets be clear, I like swearing - I'm good at it. i'm intelligent articulate and well paid in my profession, but fuck me do i like to swear. so after months of mrs spimf telling me to stop swearing at home...

my darling little boy who is not yet even 2 woke up this morning saying quite perfectly clearly through his little baby monitor...

mummy fuck fuck fuck daddy daddy fuck fuck fuck

so this is my way of getting as many fucks as possible out of my system cos i'm now BANNED at home.

i'm off home now to fuck the missus now

:D
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Thu 17 Apr 2008, 17:27, 1 reply)

Last pearoast, I promise.
When my son was two he came into our bedroom one Saturday morning and crawled into bed between us, then said, "Mom, I just did a cow poop."

After a moment's silence I announced, "He directly addressed you with that one."
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Thu 17 Apr 2008, 17:18, Reply)