Because Rosie challenged people to write up their favorite kids' utterances, I need to put down some of the things my own kids said. They're part of family lore and so I'm sure that Patrick (our firstborn) will take issue with some or all of them.
Speaking of Patrick, check out my favorite story about him. I can't write it up any better than he did! By the way, in the story, "Charlotte" is actually Rosie.
Patrick is also known for another wonderfully embarrassing story. When he was about three (and no, Patrick, I don't remember exactly how old you were), he and I were at a wedding rehearsal in a church that we did not attend. I don't remember why we were there, but I know we were waiting for somebody to be finished. So we marked time in the back of the church. We were right behind somebody we didn't know, somebody with shortish dirty-blond-gray hair and a corduroy blazer.
Patrick got more and more interested in this person. Suddenly, he asked, "Are you a man or a woman?"
If only the earth could have opened up and swallowed us both! But no, my world continued to exist. And I couldn't say to Patrick, "Honey, how can you say that? S/he is obviously a woman/man." Because I had no idea! Talk about Pat of SNL! So I apologized profusely to the person. Thank God, he was nice about it! He responded kindly to Patrick, "I'm a man. What are you?" Patrick responded helpfully, "I'm a boy." And they went on to have a pleasant conversation.
If I had been a more experienced parent, I would have known that embarrassment was about to ensue; I would just taken us to another part of the church. But then I would not have this story to tell, so it's just as well.
A very young Meg once referred to her Aunt Miriam's cat as Minganoose. Her name was actually Marigold. We still refer to that now-deceased cat as Minganoose.
When she was about three, she had diarrhea and we needed to check her poop every time she went on the toilet. We had to see if she was ready to eat fiber-filled food again.
So when we were at her paternal grandparents' house and she used the toilet, she rejoined the family by saying loudly, "Daaaaaaddy, wanna see my good poooooops?"
In our family, Rosie is famous for her many non sequiturs. We realized later that she had several tracks of conversation going on in her head at once and figured that everybody else was like her. She has now learned to harness that talent for good and not for eeeeevil. But when she was six, in 1992, not so much. While we were all in the car and her parents were looking for the correct exit, Rosie piped up: "Why does Ross Perot have such big ears?"
This one comes from when Rosie was about three. "Mouses don't have bottoms. They pee on a shark." We still have no idea where that came from.
Some more Rosie-isms:
Timmy has always been very protective of his sisters, especially Rosie. When the kids were two, four, six, and eight, Patrick and Meg were on a softball team. We all went to their games, and Jonathan generally took the younger two somewhere nearby to play. It was high summer, and Timmy was wearing nothing but a droopy diaper. An older boy, maybe five years old, hit Rosie and walked away. Little Timmy ran after him as fast as he could, which wasn't very fast. When he finally caught up to the boy, Timmy yelled at him, "Boy, don't hit Yodie!"
The boy ran to a woman who was probably his mother. Jonathan didn't hear exactly what she said, but he could see the boy crying and pointing at Timmy. The woman pointed at Timmy, made a gesture indicating how short Timmy was, and then seemed to ask her son, "What, that little boy? That one? You're worried about him?" Hey, lady, you don't mess with Timmy's sister!
The summer between Meg's ninth and tenth grades, she was assigned to read Hiroshima, which is about exactly what you would think. Timmy was not yet twelve and a prodigious reader. Before we knew he was reading it, he had finished it. He told his daddy, "Don't let Rosie read it. It is too sad. It would make her upset."
Okay, nothing really cute there, even though my kids said many, many cute and funny things. Maybe I'll remember them some other day. In the meantime, as Rosie says, go to Rosie's blog and "[a]dd a link to post about funny things your kids (or husbands or friends or you) have said—we could all use a little more laughter!"
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Rabia blogged in January about this. Naturally, it takes me forever to do anything. I wouldn't be surprised if I never finish it. Anyway . . .
- I spent part of a college summer counting earthworms for my dad.
- Cilantro tastes like soapy water to me.
- The smell of cooked cauliflower, broccoli, and (especially) brussels sprouts turns my stomach.
- On the other hand, talking about and seeing blood, gore, poop, bodily functions, etc. doesn't put me off my feed.
- Okay, now you're grossed out. Let's switch gears. I love doing origami, especially on those pretty, delicate, special origami papers.
- And snickerdoodles. Nothing comes close to my mother's recipe.
- On the other hand, I am annoyed, even angered, by soppy memes about how all mothers love their kids and all grandmothers adore their grandchildren.
- I can't draw to save my life, but I love great art.
- That doesn't include Hummels, Precious Moments, or anything with big-eyed children.
- I was once strip-searched. (It's a great story.)
- I carpeted my tenth-grade locker with actual Turkish carpet.
- I was confirmed by the bishop of Paris. (As an Episcopalian, that is.)
- If I were ever forced to go to a fancy function at somewhere like the White House, I could manage so well that you wouldn't know how much I hated it.
- Anapestic tetrameter, dactylic hexameter, etc.—I know the five main kinds of English poetic meter and tricks on how to identify them.
- I've sung in a (mostly) black gospel choir and a touring college choir. I even directed a select girls' group for a while.
- I am sad that I can never again visit four of the schools I attended; they've been given back to the Germans.
- I love the way coffee smells, but I drink it only to stay awake and only with lots of cream and sugar, because it tastes horrible otherwise.
- I can't stand the idea of wearing make-up or perfume, and I rarely wear jewelry other than my wedding ring.
- I can make my elbows bend in a way that will freak you out.
- If you ask me where I'm from, I have to make a split-second determination—how much information do you really want?
Now you try it! And link back here!