little quackers
i have 5-year-old twin nephews, who i sometimes look after. often, i'll take them to the park to play on the swings.
one such occasion was the day after a large curry and i was a little windy, to say the least. i felt the pressure building in my trousery regions and, judging the twins to be out of earshot, i let loose what i hoped would be a fairly quiet puff of gas.
it wasn't.
with an almighty BRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAPPP!!, my arse almost turned the air green(and possibly chewable). this, of course, caused much merriment for my nephews. "you farted!" they shouted, with childish delight. "no, that wasn't a fart," i replied, "that was the duck that lives in my pants. it was quacking." more laughter ensued. i was called duckpants for the rest of the day.

several weeks later, my sister asked me to pick the kids up from school, which i did. to my surprise, they ran out of the classroom towards me, then ran behind me, put their faces right by my arse and said "hello!", much to the bemusement of the waiting parents.
"boys, what are you doing?" their puzzled teacher asked. "we're saying hello to the duck that lives in her pants!"
i dread to think what that teacher thinks of me!
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Fri 24 May 2013, 14:02, Reply)

Damien
My son, we'll call him L'il Damien, was being naughty hitting his sister or something. I'm a modern parent guardian reader type so we don't shout much, but i'll get down to his level, ask him why he thought that was wrong, how it makes her feel etc and what he should do about it.

On being told it wasn't very nice etc, I said at the end, what are you going to say to your sister. He leaned over and whispered in my ear:

"If she does it again, I'll cut her head off."

I should add, that whenever he has a minor injury, stubbs his toe etc and cries like he's just broken it, we always joke about quickly running to the kitchen to get a knife to amputate, which normally makes him laugh and jumps him out of the crying. I think we'll find a better joke.
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Fri 24 May 2013, 13:40, Reply)

Bald spot
Sat outside in the sun with some friends and their 5 and 8 year old boys, i decide to apply some sun cream. On removing my hat, the kids get a sight of my follically challenged bonce, and run around the garden alternately shouting 'BALD SPOT' at the top of their voices for a couple of minutes. Little gits.
(Deligrams, Fri 24 May 2013, 13:27, Reply)

My son, then aged three, asked who the man in the photo was.
I told him that it was my grandfather but that he died not long before you were born. He said "but he comes and talks to me at night sometimes and gives me a kiss goodnight".
( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Fri 24 May 2013, 12:50, 12 replies)

Creepy things kids say
www.news.com.au/lifestyle/parenting/whats-the-creepiest-thing-your-young-child-has-said-to-you/story-fnet08ui-1226631665805
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 24 May 2013, 12:33, 6 replies)

Bonfire
I went to a firework party organised by my employer. The local Boy scouts had built us a guy to put on the bonfire. One of the company directors was there with his two children. They had the honour of lighting the fire.

I remember standing there watching these two angelic girls being carried, one on either hip of their loving father. He handed each one of his darling children a long (actually, it was fucking massive) matchstick which they poked delightfully into the base of the bonfire.

I recall the warm fuzzy orange glow on their faces as the flames leapt higher and higher, the dry wood and tinder catching alight with ease. I recall their faces screwing up and the words "BURN HIM! BURN HIS FACE" echoing around as the flames licked the feet of the guy.

I still hear them in my nightmares.
(plant rolls out of bed like a fat wobbly tub of lard, Fri 24 May 2013, 12:18, 1 reply)

A friend of mine is of the firm belief that it's not the parents fault if children are ill-behaved.
Or, indeed, the teachers.

He maintains - because he read a book once - that children mainly learn from children, and that adults have very little influence over their behaviour.

I only hang out with him because he does a good impression of finding my jokes funny.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 24 May 2013, 12:03, 2 replies)

Beadle's about (your school)
Some years ago and many locations previous (I've moved a lot. OK?), we lived in Bedfordshire. My son went to primary school there and during one of his years, Jeremy Beadle made a visit to the school to interview the children. These interviews were filmed, edited and packaged into a yearbook style VHS video cassette tape to be sold to the parents. We had no idea of the content until the tape was purchased. I guess the idea was that you could look back on this in your silver haired years and remember just how much of a darling your little treasure was.

Largely the tape was pretty dull and my son was not exactly forthcoming with his answers. One question did stick out though:

JB: "What's your favourite food your mummy cooks for you?"

There was a pause and considerable thought was evident, until the answer came:

"Yoghurts"

We still have the VHS but nothing on which to play it and no real desire to see it converted to a digital medium.
(gearanach #wankwankwank, Fri 24 May 2013, 11:30, 1 reply)

We once saw daddy beat a man until both he and the man were crying.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 24 May 2013, 11:29, 3 replies)

Dark child.
My daughter and three of her cousins (all aged between 6 - 9) were playing around in the front of my mothers house, where all our cars were parked.

They had found a pack of post it notes, and were writing little messages on them and sticking them on the cars. 'Hello Grandma', 'You're a plop face', normal kind of kids stuff.

The eldest cousin was asked by her 6 year old sister to help her write a note.

"OK", she says. "Tell grandma you're going to kill her".
(username failed moderation, Fri 24 May 2013, 11:13, Reply)

my kids now tell me off for not swearing in front of them
Now they're 15,17 and 19 they get annoyed if they think I'm behaving myself because I'm with them...
(teasus likes tea, Fri 24 May 2013, 10:31, Reply)

Repost:
For my mum's 60th birthday she insisted on taking the whole family to Alton Towers. The older lads (8-10yo) insisted on going on the ... Giant Headfuck ... or whatever the most mentalistly stupid rollercoaster was. Now - I don't even do Pirate Ships. I've been on bad acid trips, I've been in bad car crashes, I've abseiled, bridge swung, and been shot at, so I'm really quite happy taking the little ones on the poot-poot train around the animal enclosure - I'm really not interested in having my body thrown around repeatedly at 5G by a device specifically designed to strike terror into my very soul, so no - I wasn't going on.

While they were queuing, mum and I took the smaller ones on the train, and returned to the rendezvous via the sweet shop to get a big bag of sugar lollies for all the kids.

The lads came back enormously excited, and mum gave each of them a lolly.

One of them was having trouble unwrapping his - they had a plastic wrap sealed tightly with sellotape, so I offered to help.

"Here you are, lad" I said, "Give that here and I'll unwrap it for you."

This bastard thing was clearly designed by a sociopath - the sellotape was absolutely bound, and even using what nails I have I was having distinct trouble with it.

Observing this, my nephew cried frustratedly, "Uncle Vagabond you're rubbish! You're too wuss to go on the rollercoaster, and now you can't even open a lollipop!"
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 24 May 2013, 10:30, Reply)

may have left this a little late
Because it was quite cute hearing her say "sumbarine" and "helicocter", I only told my daughter she was mispronouncing those words when she was about 15. She took a bit of persuading that I wasn't winding her up... Does this make me a bad father?
(teasus likes tea, Fri 24 May 2013, 10:29, 1 reply)

"It's a bit small isn't it?"

( Muns, Fri 24 May 2013, 10:27, Reply)

Expects knock on door from Social Services...
Took my 3 year old to a new play (park when did they stop being playgrounds?) in the grounds of country houseand it had a rope basket-style swing where you could push your little charge quite high without fear of pushing him off.

He seemed to love it. I know this becuase he was giggling uncontrollably and shouting, "Daddy, it makes my willy feel funny." I foolishly laughed which was his cue to repeat the phrase ad infinitum. For the next 30 mins around the playpark and grounds of this estate I was followed by a little voice imploring me: "Daddy, can you make my willy feel funny again"
(Gusofnavarone always makes a map of france from sarnies, Fri 24 May 2013, 10:12, 5 replies)

Walking back from the scout hut,
my boys were discussing gross medical practices, and came onto brain dissection, which they had seen on TV.
"Whose brain did they use?" asks the eldest.
I explain how people choose to donate their bodies to science when they die, and state that this is something I might like to happen with my corpse.
"But I don't want you to die!" exclaims the youngest.
As I'm about to explain that science will be more than happy to wait for me to die in my own time, rather than send a death squad round to collect me, he cuts me off with "It's okay, we can just kill Mummy, instead."

Gave the lady collecting the Kleeneze catalogues a laugh, anyway.
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Fri 24 May 2013, 10:05, Reply)

Spitting
6 year old daughter comes home from school telling us that a man had turned up at school and had taught her spitting.
When I asked for more information, she said that a man had come into the playground at lunchtime in a tracksuit, and had shown them spitting.
I took her to school the next day ready to confront the headmaster about what had happened.
Turns out that a local football coach had spent some time teaching the fine art of dribbling a football.
( insignificantsnivellinglittleturd I Like Peas, Fri 24 May 2013, 9:38, Reply)

"IT WAS THE FUCKING BOILER, SO JUST MIND YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS."

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 24 May 2013, 9:14, Reply)

A friend of mine
Was playing with my dog, who got rather over-excited and decided to stick his nose into my friend's crotch ( Why do some dogs like doing that? ) With that my friend's 5 year old son comes out with "Daddy I think he wants to eat your willy!"
Many years ago my mum was coming home from shopping on a bus. In the seat in front was a woman with her little boy (Spoiled brat!) who thought it would be a good idea to pester his mum for some candy. His mum kept refusing with words to the effect "No you can't have any more sweets, you have had enough already" The brat became even more vocal and whinging as the bus journey progressed but mum his kept refusing. Then the little sod shouted "If you don't let me have a sweet I will tell everyone on this bus that you had a wee in a bucket!" Of course the poor woman blushed scarlet.
Then of course there is this classic from an 8 year old.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0vlIA0dcss
(Mackeson_drinker, Fri 24 May 2013, 9:08, 1 reply)

I have taught my four-year-old daughter 'schnell, schnell' and 'raus, raus' .
It's very lol and cute to hear her shouting it when she wants to go out or whatever but faintly embarrassing when she started bellowing it across a packed Liverpool Street station. Lucky it wasn't Golder's Green I suppose.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Fri 24 May 2013, 9:06, 2 replies)

Fat internet shut-in says child refers to his man-breasts
Hilarity ensues
(McChinaman banned, Fri 24 May 2013, 8:47, 33 replies)

My eldest (6) has taken to chanting "f-word, f-word"
because a) kids love to say rude words, and b) we can't very well tell him off for not saying "fuck".
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Fri 24 May 2013, 8:44, Reply)

Thanks to my second born son
Any type of keyboard driven screen based system is referred to as 'a polluter '
( horace wimp needs more than 49 characters to fully express hi, Fri 24 May 2013, 8:28, Reply)

La signora tumbleweed's nephew
Diego (then aged 3). We were looking after the little man for the afternoon and took him to a market - Corso Palestro in Turin, if you're wondering. I will never forget him looking up at me and saying "I like to move it move it".
(barbedwiretumbleweed Fast 'n' Bulbous!, Fri 24 May 2013, 8:24, Reply)

Child abuse extravaganza II - Electric Boogaloo!
From The Tales of The Wife:

She works in a care center for *ahem* Special Needs children.
They have everything. A kid that bites any- and everything, including humans, and will draw blood if you don't literally throw her off.
Another kid that is psychologically unable of defending himself - you can slap him all day and he won't even move (makes a nice combo with the biter)
A kid that paints with feces. On other people.
And finally, the hypersexualized four-year-old swearotron 2000.

This story is about the last one.

On his first day, as he was being led to the building, he saw two workers replacing a window that one of the kids had smashed in a fit of six-year-old rage. He looks at them, they look at him, and out come the words... 'Hey carpet muncher, what's that you're doing there?' Problem is that they came out of the kid, not the workmen.

Other gems include: 'Fuck you fuck you fuckyou fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou!!!', crawling under a woman's skirt and touching her minge ('Like we do with my sister'), admitting to watching porn _with his mom and siblings_, aparrently knowing what a hot carl is, and furious tries at masturbation in any setting imaginable.

The things kids say (and do) if you break them enough...
(GermanGuy invaded on, Fri 24 May 2013, 5:56, 14 replies)

Child abuse extravaganza!
Way back, when I was just a Germankid of five (almost six!) years, my family moved to the US for a few years. A few months in, my english was getting quite good, but let's just say that it could have been more nuanced.

So there I was, down at the mall with my pappy. I saw a frozen joghurt stand, and did what sugar- and artificial flavor-starved children do: I threw a mid-sized tantrum.
Things came to a head when I got a 'reset' slap: I picked myself up and asked, in a loud, clear, carrying voice...

'Daddy, why do you always beat me up?'

Cue policeman overhearing this and asking me how often Daddy beat me. 'About one time every month' says I, still not knowing the difference between slapping
(of the non-british, non-happy variety) and beating someone.

It took mom, a cop who spoke okay-ish German and about two hours to resolve the situation.

Daddy=1 point, but
Child= At least 10

Still didn't get the frozen joghurt though :(
(GermanGuy invaded on, Fri 24 May 2013, 5:42, Reply)

Told
my nephew I'd been to the Paralympics. He asked me if I'd won anything.
(Wong Fei-Hung - now with added flickr.com (see profile), Fri 24 May 2013, 1:19, Reply)

Outwitted by a five year old
(pearoast)

My Ex's Uncle lives in Blackpool and, one Spring day, we went to stay with his family and check out the Pleasure Beach, the Tower and buy 'Kiss Me Quick' hats. His daughter, Ellie, is five and at that age where conversation is a never ending stream of questions. She walked into the front room just as we were putting our jackets on to go out for the day. And thus the interrogation began.

Ellie: "Where are you going?"
Me: "We're going to the Pleasure Beach, Ellie."
E: "Why?"
M: "To go on all the rides."
E: "Why?"
M: "Because they'll be exciting. We don't have rollercoasters in our town."
E: "Why?"
M: "Umm.... there isn't anywhere to put them I suppose."
E: Why?
M: "Ummm... they built shops and offices instead."
E: "Why?"
M: "Errr... so people could have somewhere to go to by stuff and earn the money to do so."
E: "Why?"

At this point her Uncle walked in and she lost interest. Which was frankly a relief as I'd mentally started writing the letter I planned on sending to the council when we got home. "Dear sir, why *did* you build shops and offices instead of rollercoasters...?".

Anyway, me and the ex went out and had a great day. On returning, Ellie was out in the garden making sandcastles in her sand pit. I decided to take revenge for my earlier grilling and give her a taste of her own medicine.

Me: "What ya up to Ellie?"
Ellie: "Making sandcastles"
M: "Why?"
E: "Because I like them. What are you, stupid?"

Outwitted by a five year old.
(R. Jimlad twitter.com/sirmarkymark, Thu 23 May 2013, 23:44, 1 reply)

When he was young my older brother used to call a fire engine a waggajoo.
No, me neither. But we still call them that in our family, not out loud like.
( fred zeppelin II: Electric Boogaloo, Thu 23 May 2013, 23:15, 1 reply)