I tried to type up some of the funny things my kids have said over the years. I thought I’d share some of them with you. 
2013
My 11 YO looked his father in the face and said, “Zombies like brains, so you’re safe.” 
After which he was wrestled to the ground and ordered to proclaim his absolute adoration for his father and his infinite wisdom.

Me: how can I make my covers more appealing to men? 
Husband: boobs. Big ones.

7 YO: no! You always tell mom!
3 YO (sobbing): I promise I won’t tell her. 
11 YO: yes you will. You always tell her. 
10 min later w/ chocolate on her face: mom! We hid and had ice cream before dinner!
7 YO: *slaps forehead* told u she would tell.

Surgery went well. He came out combative-I WANNA PLAY THE WII! I had to laugh a little inside.

My 12 YO just came home and told me a kid told him a racist/off colored joke. His response, “That’s not funny. It’s racist.” When the kid told him to lighten up, my son pointed to a kid of the race being mocked and said, “Why don’t you ask him if he thinks it’s funny.”

My 4 YO is 5 today! She’s a silly girly girl who regularly slays zombies and wants to know where vampires live (“even though it’s just pretend, Mom!”). She changed her name to Rainbow, feels it is her right to play with friends all day, and makes up words because it’s fun. Love her!

2012
10 YO: *groans* Mom, I’m book sick. 
Me: ???
10 YO: I can’t wait a whole year for book 3 to come out!
Me: Welcome to my life, buddy.

Me: Honey, look at my cover! Isn’t it gorgeous?
Husband: Why is there so much purple?
Me: Well, her wings are actually made of an aurora, which is purple or this ugly green. So we went with purple.
Husband: Why are her hands over her head? It looks like she’s dancing. 
Me: She is dancing. 
Husband: Why? And why are there fairies around her? I’d take those off.
Me: *glaring* You no longer get an opinion.

My son is giggling in his sleep. Cutest thing ever. Also, I want in on that dream.

6 YO, crying and storming off, “Leave me alone! I just want to be left alone.” 2 YO trotting after him: “Okay. I’ll go with you.”

2011
6 YO spilled his peas all over the floor. 9 YO looks under the table and says, “Is that the same as spilling the beans?”
6 YO goes under the table to clean up the peas. Calls up to us, “Mmmm these are good off the floor.”

My 2 YO’s screaming because someone ate her smarties. It may or may not have been me.
Don’t judge me.

I try to get my 9 & 6 YOs to wear their coats. I try to give them rides to school. They LIKE walking in the cold. Their coats are too HOT, no matter that it’s 10 degrees outside. I really do try . . .

6 YO Logic: If you build an AMAZING Lego ship, glue it together. Your mom doesn’t let you use glue, so you’ll have to hide in your room. Glue will leak out the sides, so you’ll have to wipe it on the carpet. She’ll ground you if she finds it, so cover it up with blankets from your bed.

Don’t Eat Me
By my 9 year old son.
Reasons why not to eat me
I stink
I’m ugly
I’m full of fat (your diet, remember?)
I hate your cat
I’ll eat the mouse
In your house
I’ll mow the lawn
I’ll sweep the floor
I’ll vacuum your house
I’ll pick up the floor
I’ll throw away that banana from days of yore.
Just don’t eat me!
I promised 5 YO that if he’d be good in his class while I went to aerobics, I’d give him 1 quarter. 
He thinks about it. “How about 4 quarters.” 
“One is plenty.”
“How about 2 quarters?”
I smile at him. “How about 10 pennies!” 
His eyes light up. “Okay, mommy.” 

This past weekend, we decided to do a family day trip at a nearby cave system. As we waited for our turn on the tour, my 2 YO daughter fell head first off a picnic table. Even standing right next to her, I wasn’t fast enough to save her. There was this awful hollow crack as her head hit the asphalt. I scooped her up. Instead of screaming in pain, she cried weakly. Then her little body went limp in my arms. Her eyes fluttered back. 

My heart collapsed inside my chest and I cried for my husband. An eternity later, her eyes focused on me. We watched her closely after that. Especially her eyes, to make sure they were equally dilated and reactive to light. I also knew it would be really bad if she started throwing up. 

After over half an hour of crying, she finally settled down. Later, my ER nurse sister-in-law checked her out and proclaimed her fine. She said that children knock themselves out easier than adults because of their softer bones. As long as she didn’t have any symtoms of a concussion in the first two hours, she should be fine.

But for those few seconds, I stood on the precipice of my worst fears. That something bad would happen to one of my children. That I would have failed to prevent it. 

And today we learned not to stick our tongue on trampaline frames.

“Connor, why are you wearing your brother’s clothes?”
Connor hikes up shorts 3 sizes too big. “Because my brother told me to.”
“Corbin, why did you tell your brother to wear your clothes?”
Corbin grins. “Because it’s funny when his pants fall down.”


8 yr old to his 4 yr old brother: “You’re dead. I killed you!”
4 yr old’s response: “Jesus will repair me!”


Connor with pointer finger pointing and a glare: “Mom, I get to make up all the rules, ’cause I eat all my food and now I’m big.”


Connor said, “Mom, we’re out of the damn juice.” I blame his father.


Today Corbin asked me, “Mom, what’s a pee can?” “Huh?” I responded. He showed me his cereal box. I started laughing. “Bud, that’s pronounced pecan.”


Connor grabs my cheeks between his hands (not those cheeks, think lower) and exclaims, “Mom, you have a BIG butt!”


We had a fantastic Christmas! Thanks goes out to Derek for picking up on the slack (I’m sick). Connor got a submarine. He came downstairs butt naked and asked if he could get in the tub. 1.5 hrs later, he came out looking all wrinkly lol. Lily was bound and determined to swallow SOMETHING inedible. Corbin just wanted Connor to leave his stuff alone. Best Christmas I ever had. 

Connor this morning: “Oh me gosh!”

Connor just said, “Mom, this pudding is damn good.”


So, last night, Lily spat up almost her whole bottle. Covering me, two blankets, and herself. “Man, I wish she’d stop doing that,” I growl. Corbin pipes in with the perfect solution, “Maybe we should duct tape her mouth shut!” And no, he wasn’t kidding.


I asked Corbin what he did on his first day of school. “Well, recess was pretty fun.” “Oh?” I say. “Whaddya do?” Without missing a beat, “Chased the girls.” 
I’m in big trouble.
Amber Argyle
Author

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