The other day, Sarah came into the kitchen as I was taking some penicillin. Thinking that I was sneaking one of the children's Flintstones vitamin, she asked if she could have one of my pills.
I explain to the little cherub that I was taking medicine that would help to make me feel better.
Sarah asked, "Will it make you stop yelling?".
I replied, "No, darling, that is a little blue pill that I am so desperately in need of". I giggled, and then handed her a coveted Flintstones vitamin.
Showing posts with label Funny Things They Say. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Funny Things They Say. Show all posts
Sunday, April 1
Friday, September 30
The etoN
Dan and I got a note home from the grade one teacher. It directed us to read the note Katie had written in her agenda. I must confess, folks, I expected the worst. Like a list of everything wrong with me!
I was pleasantly surprised when this is what I saw:
I studied what she had written, trying to sound it out. After a while, Dan gave me a clue.
Then I wrote a note back to the teacher saying:
"?melborp eht eb ot smees tahW".
(Okay, I didn't, but I wanted to!)
I was pleasantly surprised when this is what I saw:
I studied what she had written, trying to sound it out. After a while, Dan gave me a clue.
Then I wrote a note back to the teacher saying:
"?melborp eht eb ot smees tahW".
(Okay, I didn't, but I wanted to!)
Thursday, September 15
Not Good Enough
I'm a lucky girl.
Some people walk blindly through life thinking that they are pretty good, or at least, good enough. I know better. I have three children who are kind enough to give me a detailed list of my shortcomings. The list is constantly updated, and no detail is too small not to mention.
This morning, I was informed that I was a complete and utter failure as a mother. Why? Because I have failed to take a picture (or a hundred) of the twinnies each and every day before they went to school.
Really.
I thanked both twins for chastising me because this clearly is a significant shortcoming. I also thanked them for raising their voices, as I have great difficulty appreciating the seriousness of their concerns unless it is shouted directly into my face.
I quickly got my camera out, and proceeded to have a photo shoot. At 7am. Sigh.
With the photo shoot completed, I thought that I would be back in the children's good books.
Not quite.
As the twinnies were walking out the door to catch the bus, I handed them each an umbrella. Just in case. Because I care.
Bethie said, "Is it going to rain today?". I replied that I wasn't 100% sure, but it might rain in the morning.
Bethie, knowing that I am prone to make mistakes and I need to be carefully monitored, said "Didn't you check the Weather Network?". I assured the little darling that I had, in fact, checked the weather, but the weather man's "best guess" was that it might rain. I said that no one knows for sure, but the cold wind and the dark clouds are kinda a hint.
Bethie said, "God knows for sure". Quite right, but I am not God, nor does He feel the need to update me every morning on the state of the weather.
Not good enough.
I hear that raising little girls is tough, and it will only get harder. Really? I don't think that my self-esteem will endure, especially when I need to be as all knowing as God!!!
Some people walk blindly through life thinking that they are pretty good, or at least, good enough. I know better. I have three children who are kind enough to give me a detailed list of my shortcomings. The list is constantly updated, and no detail is too small not to mention.
This morning, I was informed that I was a complete and utter failure as a mother. Why? Because I have failed to take a picture (or a hundred) of the twinnies each and every day before they went to school.
Really.
I thanked both twins for chastising me because this clearly is a significant shortcoming. I also thanked them for raising their voices, as I have great difficulty appreciating the seriousness of their concerns unless it is shouted directly into my face.
I quickly got my camera out, and proceeded to have a photo shoot. At 7am. Sigh.
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| Katie |
 |
| Bethie |
 |
| Bethie (l) and Katie |
 |
| Bethie (l) and Katie |
 |
| Bethie (l) and Katie |
 |
| My favourite of the twinnies. |
Not quite.
As the twinnies were walking out the door to catch the bus, I handed them each an umbrella. Just in case. Because I care.
Bethie said, "Is it going to rain today?". I replied that I wasn't 100% sure, but it might rain in the morning.
Bethie, knowing that I am prone to make mistakes and I need to be carefully monitored, said "Didn't you check the Weather Network?". I assured the little darling that I had, in fact, checked the weather, but the weather man's "best guess" was that it might rain. I said that no one knows for sure, but the cold wind and the dark clouds are kinda a hint.
Bethie said, "God knows for sure". Quite right, but I am not God, nor does He feel the need to update me every morning on the state of the weather.
Not good enough.
I hear that raising little girls is tough, and it will only get harder. Really? I don't think that my self-esteem will endure, especially when I need to be as all knowing as God!!!
Monday, August 29
The Very Last Day
Every evening during dinner, I ask the children, "What was your favourite bit of the day?". Since tonight was the very last day of their summer vacation, I asked, "What was your favourite bit of the entire summer?".
The children had a pretty good summer. I put a lot of effort into keeping them entertained and happy and active. They had soooo many things that they could have chosen from.
They could have mentioned:
Great.
Summer 2012 is going to be super easy!
The children had a pretty good summer. I put a lot of effort into keeping them entertained and happy and active. They had soooo many things that they could have chosen from.
They could have mentioned:
- seeing the RCMP Musical Ride
- seeing the fireworks
- going to several wading pools many times throughout the summer
- going to beaches, during the day and the evening
- visiting Little Valley Animal Farm
- driving all over the city to go to new, as well as "tried and true", parks
- going to the Cumberland fair
- making lanterns
- attending the Lumiere Festival
- going to the Farmer's Market
- having an afternoon out of Uncle Sean's boat
- having a picnic in the park with Dan
- painting at the Children's Garden
- seeing "Winnie the Pooh" in the theatre
- making endless batches of pudding pops
- painting their very own ceramic piggy banks
- going to a friend's birthday party
- playing with their cousins
- spending hours and hours in Granny's hot tub (kept a "refreshing" temperature for their enjoyment only!)
- playing outside on their very own Bouncy Castle, and on their new massive inflatable water slide (and a wee blow up slide for Sarah)
- going to see the lights on Parliament Hill
- dining out at their favourite "fancy" restaurant (Swiss Chalet) TWICE
- having a Splatter Party for their birthday
Great.
Summer 2012 is going to be super easy!
Tuesday, May 10
The Patron Saint of Lost Children
You may not have known this about me, but I am the Patron Saint of Lost Children.
It's true.
Any, and every, lost child will seek me out, and I will comfort them and find their parent. It has happened 3 times in the last week alone. And I am happy to do this because I have a child who routinely gets lost (yup, it's Bethie. And Bethie swears that it is I who is lost, not her. Sigh). Once, mall security was involved. Not because I requested their assistance, but because I (apparently) panic quite loudly.
Funny little side note: Mall security was useless because they announced that they had found my little darling and she was safe in the arms of her father. When I rushed over to her, I became very annoyed and said "That's not my missing child, that's her twin. Look for someone who looks JUST LIKE HER!".
Even though I am the Patron Saint of Lost Children, I understand that these behaviours are not exclusive to me. The vast majority of people, of either sex or any age, will help a lost child. In fact, Bethie was once "rescued" by a 7 year old. As a result, I have always encouraged my children to talk to strangers. If they need help, find someone who looks kind and let them help you.
Of course, the school disagrees with me and has informed all the children never to talk to strangers. The twinnies wondered out loud (as is their way) about how I could be so idiotic as to encourage my little darlings to ask strangers for help when they are in need of assistance. Sigh.
I explained that most people are good and most people will help children.
They worried about being kidnapped. I informed them about the "Ransom of Red Chief" and reassured my little angels that nobody wants them!
And then I felt badly. Because I want them. I want them to be safe. I want to help navigate their way through a terrifying and highly unlikely situation.
I told the twinnies that if anyone should try to kidnap them, they are to yell as loud as they could "This is NOT my Mummy" (or Daddy). They are to pitch an almighty fit. They have my full permission to knock things off the shelf, to fight, to bite, to do whatever it takes to get people (strangers, the good ones) to look at them and to step in. We talked about how it is important to keep shouting "This is NOT my Mummy" as opposed to just screaming. Strangers will help if they think children are being kidnapped, but will simply cluck their tongues if they think children are being naughty. I even practiced this with the twinnies.
At the end of this conversation, I looked both girls in the eye and said "Do you know what will happen if you pull this stunt with me?".
Katie said with such sureness, "You will beat us". This from the child who has never been beaten, hit, punched, or (let's be honest) disciplined in any way, shape or form. So, no, I will not "beat" them.
Bethie said, "You will kill us". Umm...not literally, which is how she meant it. What is wrong with my children?
I informed my sweet cherubs that if they pitched a fit for me while in a store and shouted out "This is NOT my Mummy", I would reply "Quite right! I'm not!" and then I would giggle while skipping out of the store... without them. Because the Patron Saint of Lost Children has no problem intentionally "losing" any bad ones!
It's true.
Any, and every, lost child will seek me out, and I will comfort them and find their parent. It has happened 3 times in the last week alone. And I am happy to do this because I have a child who routinely gets lost (yup, it's Bethie. And Bethie swears that it is I who is lost, not her. Sigh). Once, mall security was involved. Not because I requested their assistance, but because I (apparently) panic quite loudly.
Funny little side note: Mall security was useless because they announced that they had found my little darling and she was safe in the arms of her father. When I rushed over to her, I became very annoyed and said "That's not my missing child, that's her twin. Look for someone who looks JUST LIKE HER!".
Even though I am the Patron Saint of Lost Children, I understand that these behaviours are not exclusive to me. The vast majority of people, of either sex or any age, will help a lost child. In fact, Bethie was once "rescued" by a 7 year old. As a result, I have always encouraged my children to talk to strangers. If they need help, find someone who looks kind and let them help you.
Of course, the school disagrees with me and has informed all the children never to talk to strangers. The twinnies wondered out loud (as is their way) about how I could be so idiotic as to encourage my little darlings to ask strangers for help when they are in need of assistance. Sigh.
I explained that most people are good and most people will help children.
They worried about being kidnapped. I informed them about the "Ransom of Red Chief" and reassured my little angels that nobody wants them!
And then I felt badly. Because I want them. I want them to be safe. I want to help navigate their way through a terrifying and highly unlikely situation.
I told the twinnies that if anyone should try to kidnap them, they are to yell as loud as they could "This is NOT my Mummy" (or Daddy). They are to pitch an almighty fit. They have my full permission to knock things off the shelf, to fight, to bite, to do whatever it takes to get people (strangers, the good ones) to look at them and to step in. We talked about how it is important to keep shouting "This is NOT my Mummy" as opposed to just screaming. Strangers will help if they think children are being kidnapped, but will simply cluck their tongues if they think children are being naughty. I even practiced this with the twinnies.
At the end of this conversation, I looked both girls in the eye and said "Do you know what will happen if you pull this stunt with me?".
Katie said with such sureness, "You will beat us". This from the child who has never been beaten, hit, punched, or (let's be honest) disciplined in any way, shape or form. So, no, I will not "beat" them.
Bethie said, "You will kill us". Umm...not literally, which is how she meant it. What is wrong with my children?
I informed my sweet cherubs that if they pitched a fit for me while in a store and shouted out "This is NOT my Mummy", I would reply "Quite right! I'm not!" and then I would giggle while skipping out of the store... without them. Because the Patron Saint of Lost Children has no problem intentionally "losing" any bad ones!
Friday, March 18
X Marks The Spot
Almost everyday, Katie draws pictures of flowers for me. She does this to please me, to show me just how much she loves me. I think that's really sweet of her.
Yesterday, Katie came home from school and gave me this picture:
I told Katie that the flower was wonderful, and I said what a great job she had done, and how pleased I was, and how much I loved her.
Katie said, "Do you see the x?".
I hadn't. She had to point it out:
She said, "That's where I'm going to bury you". No exclamation mark. Just a statement of fact.
What a darling little girl, eh?
In my opinion, she's taking "Be Prepared" just a little too far!
Yesterday, Katie came home from school and gave me this picture:
Katie said, "Do you see the x?".
I hadn't. She had to point it out:
What a darling little girl, eh?
In my opinion, she's taking "Be Prepared" just a little too far!
Friday, March 11
A Life Less Urban
I want to move to a farm. I'm kind of obsessed with it. Which is funny, because I am not a farm type of girl. I don't enjoy animals. I don't enjoy physical labour. And I don't "muck". But I'm pretty certain that I should move to a farm.
I have convinced Dan that raising our children on a farm is an excellent idea. He was hesitant at first, and may have even laughed a little bit, but he came around when I reassured him that he wouldn't have to do any work...and he fell for it. I told him that I would do most of the work, and my brothers would be thrilled to do the hard stuff, while Dan went sailing (oh yeah, I found out that Dan fancies himself a sailor. It's okay to laugh, I did).
Convincing the children to move to a farm proves to be a bit more challenging.
Years ago, the twinnies wanted a pet. I said "no" (remember, I don't like animals). I told them that animals poop and I wasn't cleaning animal poop. They reassured me that Granny would come over and scoop poop. Granny told my precious little darlings to give their heads a shake and there was no way on Earth she was going to come over to our house to clean up after animals. She seemed rather passionate about it. She's funny like that.
The twinnies thought that a gold fish would be a reasonable compromise. I pointed out that fish poop, too. Then they wanted a dog. I said "The bigger the animal, the bigger the poop". Now, none of them want a pet. Nor do they want to live on a farm because of all the animals that would be there pooping, even though I promised that I would be the one scooping poop. They don't believe me, and are not willing to "risk it".
About once a day, I tell my children we should move to a farm. Just in case we win the lottery, I want them to be prepared. I ask them which vegetables we should grow in our garden, or which animals we should raise, or what we should name the cow. I mention all the yummy things I could make.
The other day, Bethie and I were sharing my egg sandwich (fried egg, cheese, and toast). I told her that if we lived on a farm we could get the eggs from the chickens, I could make the cheese from the cow's milk, and I could bake the bread. We wouldn't have to go to the store at all!
Bethie replied, "Yeah. If you want to do it the hard way..."
My children are soooo .... URBAN! Just like their father.
I have convinced Dan that raising our children on a farm is an excellent idea. He was hesitant at first, and may have even laughed a little bit, but he came around when I reassured him that he wouldn't have to do any work...and he fell for it. I told him that I would do most of the work, and my brothers would be thrilled to do the hard stuff, while Dan went sailing (oh yeah, I found out that Dan fancies himself a sailor. It's okay to laugh, I did).
Convincing the children to move to a farm proves to be a bit more challenging.
Years ago, the twinnies wanted a pet. I said "no" (remember, I don't like animals). I told them that animals poop and I wasn't cleaning animal poop. They reassured me that Granny would come over and scoop poop. Granny told my precious little darlings to give their heads a shake and there was no way on Earth she was going to come over to our house to clean up after animals. She seemed rather passionate about it. She's funny like that.
The twinnies thought that a gold fish would be a reasonable compromise. I pointed out that fish poop, too. Then they wanted a dog. I said "The bigger the animal, the bigger the poop". Now, none of them want a pet. Nor do they want to live on a farm because of all the animals that would be there pooping, even though I promised that I would be the one scooping poop. They don't believe me, and are not willing to "risk it".
About once a day, I tell my children we should move to a farm. Just in case we win the lottery, I want them to be prepared. I ask them which vegetables we should grow in our garden, or which animals we should raise, or what we should name the cow. I mention all the yummy things I could make.
The other day, Bethie and I were sharing my egg sandwich (fried egg, cheese, and toast). I told her that if we lived on a farm we could get the eggs from the chickens, I could make the cheese from the cow's milk, and I could bake the bread. We wouldn't have to go to the store at all!
Bethie replied, "Yeah. If you want to do it the hard way..."
My children are soooo .... URBAN! Just like their father.
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