(A young kid gets lost and my coworker is trying to help but has trouble understanding her.)

Coworker: “What’s your name?”

Kid: “Meeee.”

Coworker: “I mean your name.”

Kid: “Meeeeya.”

Coworker: “Umm, are you with your parents? Mom and Dad?”

Kid: “Yoo.”

Coworker: “Yes?”

Kid: “Yoo.”

Coworker: “No?”

Kid: *shakes head*

Coworker: “Are they here?”

Kid: “Yooos.” *nods head*

Coworker: “Okay, do you know their names? What’s your mom’s name?”

Kid: “Maanyi.”

Coworker: “Mommy? No, her name.”

Kid: “Maannii.”

Coworker: “Dad’s name?”

Kid: “Dedyi!”

(It turned out her name was actually Mia, her mom was Mandy, and her dad was Teddy. She wasn’t just a silly girl with no clue!)

My four-year-old daughter needs her vaccinations finished so she can be registered for kindergarten in the coming fall. I tell her on Monday afternoon that Tuesday morning we will go to the doctor’s office to get those done. 

Daughter: “What are vaccinations?”

Me: “They’re shots.”

Daughter: “I’m going to get shot?!”

(I’m ringing up a couple and their son, who is about four years old. The boy keeps talking to me throughout the entire purchase. He’s very blunt and quite honestly hilarious.)

Boy: “What’s your name? You’re pretty!”

Me: “Aw, thank you! My name is [My Name].”

Boy: “That’s a weird name!”

Dad: *turns red* “No, son. Tell her it’s a beautiful name!”

Son: “It’s beautiful!” 

(I didn’t even care. I was too busy laughing.)

According to my mom, I was, for the most part, a well-behaved child. The issue was that when I misbehaved, she had no idea how to effectively punish me. Sitting me in a chair in a corner didn’t work because I had ADHD so I’d always be squirming, rocking, bouncing, fidgeting, etc., to the point that it was painful for her just watching. Sending me to my room also didn’t work because I’m an immersive daydreamer, so I would just run around my bedroom playing out daydream scenarios regardless of whether I had toys or anything else. On that note, trying to confiscate my Beanie Babies didn’t really have much impact, either.

She brought this up to a therapist I was seeing at the time, who suggested finding out my favorite things and taking those away. So she asked me for my five favorite things, which I happily rattled off. She then told me if I misbehaved, she would take Item 1 away, then Item 2, and so on. My response?

“No, Mom, you don’t get it. Those are my favorite things; you don’t want to take them away,” I said, and then I went back to casually jabbering about my favorite things and totally failing to understand her attempts to explain that was the point of the punishment.

I am very relieved on her behalf that I was a well-behaved child so she didn’t have to discipline me often. Otherwise, I do not know how my parents would have maintained their sanity.

(I am in the toy section of a large chain department store looking to see if anything new is available for my collection. As I look, a small girl next to me decides to speak up.)

Little Girl: “Are you getting something for your daughter?”

Me: “Nope, I’m looking for something for myself.”

(I go back to looking.)

Little Girl: “Are you a kid?”

(I’m a bit taken aback by this.)

Me: “Well, adults collect toys, too.”

Little Girl: *in a snarky tone* “Well, I’m five.”

Me: “…”