Tag Archives: things kids say

A Conversation To Test My Parenting Ability and I Think I Failed

(This conversation actually happened after a Daddy Daughter Day when my daughter was about 3 … that’ll teach me to leave them alone together for long periods of time.)

At about 2am, Ry wanted called me into her room because she couldn’t sleep until she got some important answers to pressing concerns. She is so insightful in the wee hours. I guess watching some of her older brother’s movies with her dad had sparked important questions about survival.

Ry: If a laser hit a kid what would happen?”

Now let’s not forget it’s 2am and I’m trying sleep while answering these serious questions.

Me: Well, there are lots of different types of lasers. Some can help your skin or your body, and they don’t really hurt at all. Mommy knows this because she wants to get broken capillaries zapped and hair removed and dark spots lightened… (imagine me trailing off into lovely dream about having all the areas on my face and body zapped back into their 20s).

Ry: Nooo I meeaan the laser in the Super Mario Bros movie that Luigi shot at the mouse and made his ship explode?

Me: Ah, that kind of laser, the kind that isn’t aesthetically useful at all (what a waste). Well, I guess it would hurt, but those lasers don’t really exist.

Ry: But, Luigi had one.

Me: Yes, but that’s just made up.

Ry: What about sharks? They’re not made up … they exist right?

Me: Yes.

Now, I’m officially awake, much to my dismay. But every mom knows a fear of sharks can ruin all good beachy vacations until the time when the kids are too old to want to vacation with you anymore!

Ry: Could a kid get eaten by a shark?

Me: (Careful Jenny) Ummmmmmm I guess, but they don’t usually eat people, ‘cause we taste yucky.

Ry: I don’t taste yucky, I’m sweet.That’s why the mosquitoes bite me, and Daddy is sweet, but you and J are sour.

Oh, we’re sour alright, especially at 2am when we’re trying to tread lightly into shark infested waters…

Ry: What about electricity? Could that fire?

Ahhh, a quick transition, fear of sharks averted (for now) gotta love toddlers.

Me: Huh?  (I questioned, as I realized this was about to go into what happens to people when they are electrocuted or on fire.)

Ry: If a dragon falls in a fire what would happen?

Another surprising digression. Phew.

Me: Well, dragons breathe fire, so they probably have super thick skin and I bet they would be just fine.

Ry: Like a seal? A seal has skin like a dragon, so a seal would be okay if it was on fire, right?

Me: Right.

Please do not judge me, how am I supposed to talk about seals on fire at 2 am? Who knows where that could go? So I played it safe.

Ry: How about a kitty, cause they are soft and furry. What if a kitten was on fire?

Holy crap! I played it safe and it went there??? I’m working on 40% of my brain power and I’ve just been asked what would happen to an adorable fluffy little kitty if it was on fire.  Awesome!

Me: OK then … it is really time to go to sleep now. We’ll talk about this tomorrow (never).

Well, I’m pretty sure I failed that test of my parenting ability! I’m soooo much better at multiple choice … Scantron? Bluebook? I mean, give a mom a fighting chance here!

Make me feel better, when have you dropped the ball?

If You’ve Ever Been There, Please Like/Share

XO – Jenny From the Blog

Someone Stole Our Money Tree

And other perfectly plausible excuses for not spending in this economy… Frankly, with the amount of times my children ask for something — from $2 gems for Dragonvale to a dress from Justice to a new iPhone, I’m assuming they believe that money either grows on trees or at the very least flows to us on a river of gold.

“Someone cut down our money tree.”  This is the line I used to explain why my son would not be getting the new iPhone 5 the moment it hit shelves, like some of his other friends, who shall remain nameless.  “That’s right, just yesterday I was fanning myself with fresh dollar bills, off the darn thing and today… gone,” I waxed.

“I remember the old days, circa 2000, when times were good, the tree bloomed so plentifully.  I would walk out and stare into the buds, too blurry to tell what they would blossom into, but so excited by the prospects.  The beautiful $20’s and even a rogue $100 here or there, opened in glorious subdued hues of matte greens.  Benjamins and Jacksons — the good ol’ boys.  Recently, the soil has not been as “rich,” if you will, and Washington, old faithful, as I like to call him, has been the only one to flower.

The spots once reserved for George and Abie became clusters of kernels, heavy copper and silver colored nuts, that plunked down on our heads at even the slightest gust of wind.  Every once in a while, a seed would hit with concussion causing force… “Damn Susan B.”  I’d curse at it, and then plant it, in hopes of growing another tree.  Alas, the bush it bore only sprouted subway tokens, which are of no use in the Florida suburbs.

Each Tuesday, I would pluck all the ripe bills from the tree, as Wednesday is the day the lawn people come.  Well, need I say more.  It’s so hard to find honest help these days.

But today, well today… I don’t need to worry about picking the fruit, because the tree is gone.  All that’s left is a hole in the ground and some scattered pennies that even the horticultural filchers found not worth risking back injury for.

“So, no new iPhone 5 for you OR ME, for that matter.”

My son walked away confused and mildly appeased.  Next I will explain to my husband why the boot fairy made a recent visit to my closet.

Mom: Can you Die of Constipation… Elvis Did

He kinda looks constipated here

My son’s birthday is the same day as the King.  Oh, you know, THE King.  This is the enlightening conversation we had to commemorate his birthday.  I hope the King had other conversations to eavesdrop on at the time.

Jake: Elvis died in the bathroom.

Me:  Did he?

Jake:  He was constipated, did you know you could die of that?

Ryan: He was not constipated.  He died of doing too much drugs.

Wow that “Just say NO” campaign they start in Kindergarten has left my 7yr old speaking as if she knows of what she speaks. 

Thanks for that.

Jake:  He did not.

Ryan: Did too.

Jake:  He died on the toilet.

Ryan: Ok maybe he died in the bathroom, but it was drugs not constipation!  What was he like, urgh urgh, grunt… oops, I’m dead?

Jake:  Or wait, did he die in a bathtub?… No that was Jim Morrison.

My kids don’t know shit about current affairs but somehow this stuff sticks with them.

Jake:  Yeah, Jim Morrison did too many drugs.

Ryan:  Maybe he was constipated.

I wonder where she got that sarcasm from?

BTW – Here’s what comes up if you ask if Elvis died of constipation: it has been widely reported that Elvis Presley died in 1977 from cardiac arrhythmia, an irregular heartbeat, possibly brought on by drug dependency, obesity and a weak heart. But the music legend’s longtime friend and physician, Dr. George “Nick” Nichopoulos, has put pen to paper for the first time and revealed his belief that it was chronic constipation that actually killed the King of Rock and Roll.


WHILE YOU’RE HERE CHECK OUT WHAT’S GOING ON AT MY OTHER SITE:  I’m a Jewish mom, what’s your excuse?

My last post is below. Only read it if you plan not to verbally assault me for writing it!!!

So, I Have a Cleaning Lady – No Need for Verbal Assaults

Written by Jenny From the Blog of THE SUBURBAN JUNGLE

This story ended up in a book of hilarious Mom essays, but it was originally run when I first started blogging, by a major newspaper and their coordinating website, I will not name where.
No, stop asking, ‘cuz I won’t.
Don’t tickle me… stop it.  

Ok – the response was a mostly a verbal assault and a judgmental lashing from people who would never spend their hard earned money to have someone else help around the house.  Personally, I have no problem spending my husbands hard earned money to have someone do that.  (What, you think blogging pays a ton?)  

Ironic, comparison right ‘cuz she was the hired nanny.

Frankly, I would consider spending my last dollar on it.  In fact I would clean someone else’s house to make the money to pay someone to clean my own.  I feel I don’t need to apologize for the sanity and extra time I get to play with my kids or the joyful feeling I get from walking into my home- like Julie Andrew’s character feels in the Sound of Music when she’s spinning on the mountain top singing, “The Hills are Alive.”

Oh, you can picture me doing it right?
Cuz I do.  
With song.  
And a flowy 1940‘sesque dress.  
Every time I walk in and smell the fresh scent of Lysol “Fresh Scent.”

I thought I would let you all decide if you can relate or if I’m a horrible person  – for liking a clean house – for putting this extravagance in my budget – for wearing frocks…

Here goes:  Read MORE

Kids Say the Darndest Eye Opening Things | Jenny From the Blog

legs up the wallThis conversation actually happened.  As a humor blogger, I see the “funny” in it, but it also opened my eyes to one possibility:  My kids may not gonna take care of me in my old age. Continue reading