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A Humbling Slice Of Motherly Advice

| Staten Island, NY, USA | Related | November 4, 2013

(I am trying to give an inspiring speech to my five and seven-year-old boys.)

Me: “You guys, don’t let anybody tell you otherwise: you can be anything you want to be. You can be a police officer, a fireman, a sanitation worker, a doctor, a nurse, a lawyer, a carpenter, a scientist, an auto guy, a pilot, a dentist. You can do it if you put your heart into it. Work hard, and study hard. Always try to do your very best. You’re going to be the kind of ‘somebody’ you want to be.”

Five-Year-Old: “Anything I want to be?”

Me: “Yes. The sky’s the limit!”

Five-Year-Old: “Cool! Then I want to be a MOM when I grow up!”

Me: “Aww…”

(I melt at my son’s flattery.)

Me: “Sure you can! You want to give birth, love your kids, teach them to be good, have fun with them?”

Five-Year-Old: “No! I want to play Wii all day, sleep all day, eat whatever food I want—”

Seven-Year-Old: “—not cook, not clean the bathroom, let dad do the dishes—”

Five-Year-Old: “—use bathroom words but never get grounded—”

Seven-Year-Old: “—and never get in trouble!”

Five-Year-Old: “I want to be a mom!”

Seven-Year-Old: “Me too!”

The Walking Dead: The Next Generation

| GA, USA | Related | November 4, 2013

(My mother and I are eating dinner at my sister’s house. She has two daughters: one that is three, and the other is two. They have finished eating, and after putting their plates in the kitchen, have hidden under the table where we are sitting.)

Mom: “So honey, when are you getting you next tattoo—AH!”

Me: “What the—”

Mom: “Who bit me?!”

Two-Year-Old Niece: “Brraaaainnnsss!”

Sister: “Oh yeah… they like to play ‘zombies.’ I have no idea where they learned this.”

Me: “That is hilarious—AH!”


(This goes on for the next ten minutes. They’ll bite our knees, and we’d break down in laughter. The zombies eventually got tired and went to bed, but I have never been so proud of my nieces!)

Mom Hasn’t Clicked

| Montreal, QC, Canada | Related | November 4, 2013

(I am walking to my train. I get a call from my mom, who is having computer trouble.)

Me: “What is wrong?”

Mom: “The mouse won’t move.”

Me: “Does the right-click work?”

Mom: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay, this is normal for me. Just unplug and re-plug the mouse to the tower; it should work after that.”

Mom: “Okay thanks. Bye.”

Me: “Bye.”

(I go to restart my music, but mess up and accidentally call my mom back.)

Me: “Wrong button!”

Mom: *reflexively* “How would you know? I haven’t done anything yet!”

The Waiting Game

| Related | November 4, 2013


He Must Have Brown Hair

| NJ, USA | Related | November 4, 2013

(I am about five years old. My mother takes me to the barber shop. As I am having my hair cut, the barber strikes up a conversation with me.)

Barber: “So, what’s your name, little guy?”

Me: “My name’s [Name], but my dad calls me s***-head!”

(Everyone in the shop breaks out in laughter as my mother turns bright red and runs out of the shop to wait for me in the car.)

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