A Happy Ending To A Sticky Situation

, , , , , | Related | August 10, 2020

It’s early on a weekday morning. My husband is up, getting ready for work, and our one-year-old daughter has been up with him this entire time. Having just climbed out of bed myself, I meet him at the bathroom while he cleans up, checking on what has happened while I slept.

Along comes my daughter, waddling aimlessly up and down the hall. As she circles around me for another lap, I groggily reach down to ruffle her hair in passing…

And jerk wide awake when my hand comes back red and sticky!

I snatch her up before she can waddle off again, searching her over in a blind panic… only for my husband to burst out laughing a few seconds later, leaving me slack-jawed.

My daughter didn’t have some sort of head injury, thankfully, but a giant gob of strawberry jam smooshed into the back of her hair. 

We still don’t know how it got there to this day — my husband had only cereal that morning — but it’s been an amusing highlight of my child’s toddler years to tell all our friends and family.

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Aunt Marge Learned Her Lesson, And She Taught One, As Well

, , , , , , | Related | August 8, 2020

In fourth or fifth grade, I start reading the “Harry Potter” series. I’m reading the third book in the car while my mother drives. I come across a word I don’t know. I’m a very innocent and sheltered kid.

Me: “Mom?”

Mom: “Yeah?”

Me: “What’s a bitch?”

Mom: *After a stunned silence* “What on earth are you reading?”

Me:The Prisoner of Azkaban. Aunt Marge said, ‘If there’s something wrong with the bitch, there’ll be something wrong with the pup’.”

I don’t remember what she told me, but I’m pretty sure I nearly gave her a heart attack.

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It’s Not Her Party, But She’ll Cry If She Wants To

, , , , | Related | August 1, 2020

My daughter is of kindergarten age and is invited to a birthday party. If you’ve been there, you know what nightmare they are. There are about twenty kids from the classroom, plus their parents and siblings, plus the birthday kid’s relatives and family friends. Cue over three hours of barely controlled chaos.

Needless to say, when it’s finally time to cut the cake, the ladies in charge of doing so are taking no nonsense: they hack away at the cake, slam the pieces on plates, and pass them to the nearest person that has a pair of serviceable hands.

My daughter, however, has picked just this moment to get finicky.

Daughter: “I want the corner piece with the candy flower.”

Me: “We can try, but the ladies are busy. Don’t be mad, okay?”

Unfortunately, she’s given a regular piece, instead. Tired and upset from the long afternoon, she decides to throw a fit. She starts crying so loudly, it catches the attention of the cake-cutting lady.

Cake Lady: “Oh, poor dear. What happened?”

Me: “She was after the corner piece.”

Cake Lady: “Oh, this one? That’s all right.”

Instead of swapping plates, the lady picked up the candy flower and planted it onto the piece on my daughter’s plate… sending her into another fit. I tried to console her but it was no use; she was holding her plate with white-knuckled hands, bawling uncontrollably at the injustice of it all.

Then, a passing toddler picked up the candy flower from her piece of cake, stuffed it in her mouth happily, and kept going. My daughter was so affronted she could barely breathe. There was nothing left to do at this point but laugh. I wish I’d had my camera ready.

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Nightmares Eat Pillows

, , , , | Related | July 30, 2020

My four-year-old daughter turns to me with a question.

Daughter: “Papa, what do butterflies eat?”

Me: “Nectar.”

Daughter: “How about grasshoppers?”

Me: “Plants.”

Daughter: “How about…” *pause* “…nightmares?”

Me: “…”

That escalated quickly.

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On The Right (Socio)Path!

, , , , , | Right | July 29, 2020

A woman comes in with her daughter who is probably four or five.

Girl: “Mom, why’s she wearing glasses?”

Me: “Because if I don’t wear glasses I can’t see that wall over there.”

Mother: “See, she’s just like Daddy.”

Girl: *Cheerfully* “But I don’t care about Dad!”

I managed, barely, not to laugh at her mom’s expression at that.

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