Our six-year-old does a lot of trash talking for someone who puts his shoes on the wrong feet 30 per cent of the time. —@dad_in_brief
Sorry we’re late. I let my kid tie his own shoes.
If I, as a mum, don’t know where something is in this house, it means it’s gone forever.
I’m a parent. My hobbies include watching fresh produce rot in my fridge and telling my kids that they should have done what I asked the first time.
Friend: What’s that thing where you’re always tired but can never get rest?
Me: Parenthood. —@MyMomologue
Seven-year-old: “Wow, this must be an antique! It’s from way back in the 1900s!”
Me: “Okay, calm down. It’s from 1997.”
My favourite thing about buying food in bulk is when my kids immediately decide that they now hate that food. —@bluebonetbabies
She poops too much: my son’s review of his new baby sister. —@UnfilteredMama
Prepare your spouse for parenthood by waking them up at 3 am to tell them it’s not raining and then demand some cheese. —@MacgyveringM22
Real question my kids got out of bed to ask me: “Mum, do you have any twigs I can use?”
Six-year-old: *checks out another Star Wars book from the school library*
Me: Why do you always get Star Wars books?
Six-year-old: I only read the classics.
Before having kids: “I am NEVER making separate meals for my children.”
Four years later: “Let me repeat your order: tricolour pasta (al dente) with butter and cheese on a bed of string cheese on a fairy plate, cup of water with star-shaped ice cubes, yoghurt two ways, Cheez-Its.”
Son: What’s for dinner?
[He screams, starts hyperventilating, begins to break from reality.]
Son: [Suddenly stops] Wait. Have I ever had fish?
Recently, a little boy politely said hi to my nephew. He responded, “Hi! I am Crocodile” and pretended to eat the other kid with his arms. I have never been prouder.
My four-year-old is insisting he’ll only eat “monster food,” and whatever that is, it’s definitely not the grilled cheese my wife just made.
My friend Luke didn’t realise until he was an adult that lukewarm was a real temperature. He thought it was just a term his mum used to describe his bathwater.
In my experience, when one door closes it reopens and closes 13 more times by a small child.
Four-year-old: Daddy, I spilled some milk.
Me: A little or a lot?
Four-year-old: A tiny bit.
Four-year-old: But that tiny bit went everywhere.
I told my daughter that showing her chewed-up food to her brother in public is gross, and she said, “Well I’m not here for the people.”
— Saladin Ahmed, writer
“The carrots are working!”—My six-year-old son, finding his shoes in a dark room.
*Making macaroni and cheese*
Five-year-old: I wanna put the cheese in!
Me, handing her open packet of powder: Okay, can you very carefully pour this in?
Five-year-old: *Just waves the packet around like she’s throwing rice at a wedding*
Me to a kid in the elevator holding a stuffed pig: Hey! Is that a pig?
Kid: He doesn’t like you.
Me: How can I make him like me?
Kid: If you stop asking questions.
—Helen Rosner, food writer
One of the weirdest things people would ask me when my kid was younger was, “Is he a good baby?”
Oh, no, this is one of those extremely bad babies. He runs an organized crime syndicate from his crib and sneaks cigarettes whenever I’m not looking.
—Anne Thériault, writer
Today my child is upset by “All the stuff that doesn’t have wheels.”
If you’re on the fence about having kids, I suggest you listen to the same YouTube clip for five days straight, then see how you feel.
Three-year-old: *face covered in frosting*
Me: Were you eating cake?
Three-year-old: No. I just kissed it.
[Making pigs in a blanket]
Six-year-old: We can’t call them that. We have a pig.
Me: What should we call them?
Six-year-old: Nobody you know in a blanket.
Me: You know you can ask me anything, sweetie. That’s what I’m here for.
Nine-year-old: Why are arms the only body parts that have a pit?
Me: Just go to sleep.
Eight-year-old: How come you only cook food that I hate?
Me: Well, for starters, I keep a secret recipe book called Meals Kids Hate.
Eight-year-old: *Whispers, wide-eyed.* I knew it!
The best joke I heard this week was from my 11-year-old nephew: “Gender was invented by bathroom companies to sell more bathrooms.”
My daughter woke me up at 5 am to urgently tell me, “Any balloon SpongeBob blows up is technically a water balloon,” and I have not been able to fall back asleep. —@isabelzawtun
Me: Time for bed.
Four-year-old: No, it’s not.
Me: You can’t tell time.
Four-year-old: I can tell you’re wrong.
Sometimes I miss having a toddler, but then I hear one throwing a tantrum because “The moon keeps following me,” and I think, “Yeah, I’m good.”
Me, the first time my kid tries to help out: “Oh, that’s so nice. Thank you.”
Me, every other time since: “Pal, get out of the dishwasher. We need to leave in less than an hour.”
Me: The broth in this beef stew I made is really good.
Son: Slowly squeezes tomato sauce into stew without breaking eye contact.
My kids: *using the Ouija board*
A children’s birthday party game: guess which guests are contagious. —@PetrickSara
Instead of brushing her teeth like I asked, my five-year-old went to the bathroom, lay down in front of the toilet and took a nap. I guess what I’m trying to say is she’s my new life coach.
Daughter: What’s nostalgia?
Wife: It’s when you miss something that’s really old.
[Later] Me: I’m home from work!
Wife: Aww, we missed you!
Daughter: [whispering] Nostalgia.