I need a day each week to write the fancy things my kids say. That day shall be Wednesdays. I know everybody and their mother does this and I’m pretty much okay with that. And why am I okay with that? Because kids are smarter than adults.
Because they’re little Zen masters without even trying.
And because I couldn’t make this shit up.
I mean seriously, WTF?
Rocket, holding up a small white crystal, looking really annoyed: “Mama, the lady at the store said this crystal was magic, but I just asked it to turn me into a Transformer. And as you can see, I’m not a Transformer. Therefore, she lied.” Poor kid was conned.
After sending the kids to another room for a minute so we could finish an “adult” conversation, Rocket delivered me a note with a very serious face, penned by his sister: “Rocket and I do not like being discriminated against due to our age. Angrily yours, Queen Ava and Duke Rocket.”
Ava: “I know what I want to do for my science project next year.”
Me: “Really? What?”
Ava: “I’m going to test who can hold their breath the longest: adults or children.”
Me: “That’s cool, except it may be a foregone conclusion since adults are bigger than kids, they have larger lung capacity.”
Ava: “Oh, yeah. That’s alright. I’ll just use midgets.” (please forgive the politically incorrect term. I’m sure she meant to say…uh oh…wait a minute…what is the P.C. term?).
Rocket, explaining why he randomly and suddenly wet the bed after 3 years of not doing so once: “Well I thought about it and decided I was too tired to get up. Plus, it’s warm.”