Parenting Outside The Box

| Ottawa, ON, Canada | Related | January 25, 2012

(A customer approaches me, with an eight-year-old girl in tow.)

Customer: “Hi! Can you help me load this box into my car?”

Me: “Absolutely!”

(We struggle for five minutes, putting seats down, tossing things around, and contorting the box as best we can. In the end, it’s laying on top of the (now flat) passenger seat, stretching across to the back seat on the opposite side. The remaining seat is full of stuff we had to move around.)

Customer: “Whew! We’re good!”

Customer’s daughter: “Mommy, where am I going to sit?”

Customer: “You’re, uh… going on the roof.”

Wise-cracks Are (Tali)Banned

| Highlands Ranch, CO, USA | Related | January 25, 2012

(I am 8 years old at the time. I go downstairs because I am hungry. Note: this takes place before we have found Osama Bin Laden.)

Me: “Daddy, I’m hungry.”

Dad: “It’s really close to dinner, sweetie. You shouldn’t eat too much. But, I guess you can have a few Ritz Crackers.”

Me: “We have Ritz? Where?”

Dad: “In the cabinet, go look.”

(I see them in the cabinet, but close it and turn to him.)

Me: “But I don’t like Ritz!”

Dad: “What? Why would you want to know where something is if you don’t like it?”

Me: “Well, we hate Osama bin Laden, but we’d love to know where he is right now!”

(He sends me to my room, with my mom and sister cracking up at him in the next room.)

Seventh Time’s The Charm

| NY, USA | Related | January 24, 2012

(I’m watching television with my dad when the lottery number calling comes on. My dad and I invented a game where we try to guess the numbers. He’s outgrown it, but I still do it.)

Television announcer: “Okay, the first number up-”

Me: “SEVEN!”

Television announcer: “-is six. The next-”

Me: “SEVEN!”

Television announcer: “-is three. The next-”

Me: “SEVEN!”

Television announcer: “-is four. The next-”

Me: “SEVEN!”

Television announcer: “-is seven.”

Me: “WHOO!”

Dad: *sighs and rolls his eyes*

Sibling Rivalry Is Relative

| Fort Wayne, IN, USA | Related | January 24, 2012

(I am male and three years younger than my older sister, though both of us are in our 30s. We are shopping for a gift to purchase for our parents for Christmas.)

Cashier: “Are you two related?”

Sister: “Yes, we are. He is my brother.”

Cashier: “Oh!” *points to me* “You must be the older one!”

Sister: “Ha! She said you look old!”

Cashier: “Oh, no! I didn’t mean that.

Me: *to my sister* Don’t worry, she just meant that you act too immature for people to think you are 36.”

Cashier: “No, wait! I didn’t mean that either!”

Sister: “It’s okay, you can admit it. He looks really old for 33.”

Cashier: “But, I…I’m sorry.”

Me: “No need to be sorry, we all know my sister is really immature.”

Cashier: “I swear, I didn’t mean that!”

Sister: “It’s okay, really. He looks horrible for his age.”

(The cashier realizes we have been having fun with her and smiles.)

Cashier: “Okay, I understand. I’m glad I’m an only child. This was really confusing!”

Sister: “Want my brother? He’s only slightly used!”

Me: “Or, you could take my sister. She should be house-trained by now.”

Cashier: *giggles* “I’ll just hand you your receipt instead.”

Sister: *takes receipt* “Have a nice day! Let me know if you change your mind on a slightly used 33 year-old male! Only one previous owner!”

Me: “Or a semi-house trained female! I have her papers!”

Pant-alizingly Honest

, | Wales, UK | Related | January 24, 2012

(I take my three-year-old boy shopping for clothes. We’re successfully mid-potty training, so I promised I’d buy him some real pants so he could be ‘like Daddy’. We get to the till.)

Son: “Hello!”

Cashier: “Hello! Have you been shopping?”

Son: “Yes! I’m like Daddy!”

Cashier: “Really? How’s that?”

Son: “Scratching my bottom.”

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