O Children

From the mouths of babes

“Ow, my penis!”

—    Ben, after accidentally “dressing up” while pulling his underwear on, July 2013

For the past few days Julia has been saying, “When I grow up I’m going to be a mouse.” 

That may be the best cop-out I’ve heard concerning getting a job or being an adult.

(A four-year-old girl is tearing a hangnail off of her finger.)


Are you sure you want to do that? It will just grow back.


That's what I want! I want it to grow back and then I will rip it off again and I will keep ripping it off forever. (throws hands up and rolls her eyes) Can't you see it makes me happy?

Rose really wanted to play catch today.  Thing is she decided that she wanted to while lying on the floor with her feet in the air.

"Throw the ball between my legs!" she shouted.

I said no.  She asked why and I told her it was a bad idea.

Today some three-year-olds were playing on the playground.  One of them threw herself on the ground and started flopping while face down. 

"I’m drowning!" she yelled.  "I’m drowning!"

"I’ll save you!" a boy yelled.  He ran over, straddled her and began grabbing her butt. 

(A two-year-old girl approaches me with an apron and hands it to me)


Tie me up!



Rose walked up to me holding a frying pan with a toy syringe in it.

"Look!" she said.  "I’m going home to cook this up."

(Sitting on the floor with a two-year-old girl)


Who has a magic wand?


This is my magic wand.


No, that's your middle finger.

I injured my foot recently.  My only request of Rose was that she try to sit on my lap, not on my foot.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because it hurts."

"I want to sit on your foot," she said.  "I want to sit on your foot!”

A two-year-old girl was crying today so I took some glitter and blew it into her face. 

She thought it was magical.  She stopped crying.

I was talking to some three-year-old boys about Batman when one of them asked me, “Have you ever seen some really big, scary black guys?”

“I have a booger mustache!”

—   Rose, May 2013

A two-year-old girl ran up to me while I was sitting down, grabbed the back of my shirt away from my body and stuck her head into the collar, taking a look.

"What?!" she exclaimed.  "There are no boobs!"

A two-year-old boy approaches me:


What are you doing?


Sitting in a chair with Rose. What are you doing?



Today a two-year-old boy wore a shirt with the letter “T” on it.  I have no idea why this is, but he was being such a punk I figured it stands for “Thug Life.”