You remind me of someone...

I'm at the stove mixing furiously at a pot in which I've just added beaten eggs to a hot mixture. Some of the mixture splashes out of the pot onto the stove. I mutter to mutter to myself that I'm making a big mess. Sari glances up from her activity nearby and asks innocently, "Like Daddy?"

Literal misunderstanding

A few months back, on our way back into our apartment building, Sari (3) pressed one of the buzzers at the entrance before I was able to stop her. She seems to prefer the buzzer in the lower left-hand corner of the grid. I remarked to Dovid (30), "Those poor people!" Mordechai(5), overhearing me, looked puzzled and asked, "How do you know those people are poor?"

To be or not to be

Tiny (four-year-old I babysit overnight) has this wonderful habit of expressing her distaste for all the possible options. She doesn't want to eat dinner, but she doesn't like being hungry. She "can't" choose a pair of socks, but she doesn't like my choices. Tonight, while going to sleep, she came up with the most ridiculous example yet.

- I no yike you snoring.
- I'm not snoring.
- Yes you is.
- I'm just breathing.
- I no yike you breathing.
- Everybody has to breathe, otherwise you die.
- I no wanna breathe.
- You have to breathe.
- But I no wanna breathe!
- Alright, don't breathe.
- But then I'll die!
- No, because if you don't breathe, you fall unconscious and this part of your brain right here tells your body to breathe again.
- I no yike breathing.

Biblical gourmands

While reading a bit of Exodus, I asked the kids (4 & 6) what they'd like manna to taste like (rabbinic lore has it that manna tasted like whatever the taster wanted).

4: Applesauce and ketchup.

6: Gnocchi.

Wailing wall

Update: I'm bumping this post up because I had some funky brackets in it originally that hid some of the dialog.

This doesn't really fall into the "cute" category, but here goes:

So I'm sitting with my 6 and 4 year old girls, trying to explain why Rabbi Yehuda HaNassi committed the oral law to writing in the form of the Mishnah when it was clearly forbidden to do so (I told you it wasn't cute).

When I get to the part about the Beit HaMikdash (Holy Temple) being destroyed, the 4-year-old starts bawling.

Me: Why are you crying?

4: Beit HaMikdash!

Me: ?

6: She's sad because the Beit HaMikdash was destroyed.

4: (continued crying, now with nodding head)

Me: Well, you know, the Rabbis say that those who cry for the Beit HaMikdash will merit to rejoice in it.

4: (smiles slightly)

6: (Starts to look sad)

Me: What's wrong with you?

6: I want to cry, too.

(6 later asked me if she'd be able to see the Beit HaMikdash if she didn't cry - I assured her she would.)

Building The Beis HaMikdash With A Three Year-Old

Last Tuesday night while my wife was out at a dentist appointment, my three year-old daughter walked over to me with a plastic toy hammer in her hand and asked, "Daddy, do you wanna build the Beis HaMikdash with me?"

Me: Who lives in the Beis HaMikdash?

Her: Kids

Me: And who else?

Her: Woody

Me: And who else?

Her: Dora

Me: Anyone else?

Her: Elmo

Me: Is that all?

Her: Yes

--
(Cross Posted on A Simple Jew)

You Know School Vacation is Over...

...when it's time for lice checking.

I don't know if this is done elsewhere, but in our school, kids are not allowed back in class after a long vacation without being checked for lice. I'm sure there is some sound medical reasoning for this degrading process that eludes me. But for as long as I have had kids in school, my wife and I (ok so it's mostly my wife) have had to participate in this process.

Which usually goes something like this: We wait until the day before school starts, then shlep all our kids to the school, then sign up their names, and wait for someone to call them to check. Occasionally either the Mrs. or myself will do some of the checking.

One year, when Curly was around 3 (he's 12 now), he got to come along for the ride while the older kids were being checked. One woman who was checking called out, "Who wants lice checked?"

To which Curly volunteered, "I want Rice Chex!"

Crossposted at Psycho Toddler

Got comments?

To prevent confusion for our less geeky members, I've rewritten this post. My first plan didn't work, so here's the new plan. Anybody who'd like to receive comment notifications, please email me through my profile, from the address on your profile. Tell me your Blogger name, and where you want me to send the comments. If your email address isn't listed on your profile, please comment on this post, saying you'd like to receive notifications, so I know it's really you sending the email.

There may be a delay of up to 24 hours in receiving comments, but it won't usually be that long, and it's better than a kick in the pants. ;o) If you have a better solution, I'm open to suggestions.

Also, there may occasionally be a 'SPAM:' added to the subject of the comment email. My email server sometimes adds this, and the only way to get rid of it also gets rid of the comment date in the subject. So just make sure your email program isn't rejecting those. If people would rather fix this and lose the date (still in the email body) tell me and I'll do it.

If you need help with any of this, feel free to email me. I'm a nice geek.

Do birds sleep?

- Why those birds are flying away from us?
- They're just flying around; that's what birds like to do.
- They just fly around all the time, they don't sleep.
- Yeah, they sleep at night, and fly around in the daytime.
- No, they don't sleep when it's cold.
- Of course they do, they can't stay awake all winter!
- They don't sleep on Sunday, only on Thursday.
- I'm gonna have to write this down.

My mom sent Sweetie some birthday presents. After the box was empty, she wanted to get inside, and me to tape it and send her back to Grandma!

When I make a silly mistake, I say I'm blonde. I've explained to Sweetie several times what this means. One day we were in the car with some friends, and I got annoyed because I missed a turn. Our friends thought it was really funny when Sweetie said I was blonde!

Naming

Y'all need some creative names, people! If you can't think of any bizarre ones, there are plenty in the Torah/Bible. Or try the Icelandic Name Generator. You could use your favorite authors, or scientists, or the insults your kids substitute for the ones they're not allowed to say. Like, "Hey, Chickenhead!" "What are you yelling about, Donut Breath?" Anything's better than "My four-year-old".

Housekeeping

1. I'm trying to figure out a way to distribute the comments to the group members, so that you can tell when someone is responding to one of your hysterically funny posts. Up until now, they were all coming to me. Kiwi has graciously volunteered to accept the influx of comments and work on a plan to distribute them to the rest of us. Lotsa luck, Kiwi. We may end up joining a mailing list. Stay tuned. Kiwi, when you work it out, post a comment here.
2. I'm not sanguine (heh- word I learned from Firefly) about the prospect of having dozens of bios in the sidebar. I think it will look cluttered and no one will read them anyway (and they will become outdated anyway--no one stays 4 forever). I'd prefer to put up links to posts on each of your personal blogs that will have bios of your kids, similar to what I did here. I'm open to more discussion on this point. Leave your ideas or links to your posts in the comments to this post. Then Kiwi will get them and I'll never see them. I think that will work out just fine.

The Artist part 2

Abba: What are you drawing?

The PT: The sky.

Abba: Why is the sky all red?

The PT: (expression: do I have to tell you everything??) Because the sun is out.

(She means baby)

Ada: Baba.

(That's it. I know it's not much but it is her first real word so I thought it belonged here. As you were.)

The Artist

Fudge: What a pretty picture you made, The PT! Is that supposed to be me?

The PT: (exasperated expression): Are you blue??

Fudge: Uh...no.

The PT: Then I guess it's not you!!

Mordechai: I don't want to eat chicken. You can't tell me to eat chicken.

Me: (shrug) You don't have to. It's your decision. If you eat your chicken though, you can have dessert.

Mordechai: You know, you're not in charge of my stomach. That's my body. You're in charge of the house and my clothing. So don't tell me to eat chicken!

[p.s. He ate the chicken and liked it, just like I knew he would.]

I sent Sari (3-years-old) over to Penina (my neighbor) for an eyeglasses screwdriver. I needed them to fix Sari's beloved sunglasses so she was highly motivated to get the said item, you see. The rest of the story was related to me by Penina.

Sari: Do you have little, tiny screws for my glasses?

Penina: I'm sorry, honey, we don't have that size screw.

Sari: Do you mind if I check myself?

My 2 (almost 3) Year Old

So Kaiser has a toy abmulance toy that says, "Eighty Eight, we are enroute, over." Before Kaiser presses the siren button, he says, "Idiot, we are route, O'er" David (my boyfriend) asked me why I taught him that. I DIDN'T teach him that! Meine Güte mawn, does he take me for an idiot?

But that is a little better than his toy backhoe, which he calls, "BU-oh" I thought someone taught him how to do bad name calling when he first said it to me. After I learned he was referring to his backhoe I said, "Kaiser, it's called a BACKhoe." He said, "No BU-oh".

This happen a few years ago, but I just love this story. It's a conversation between me and my daughter when she tried to be sneaky about putting away her toys.

Mommy: Natalie, please pick up your toys.

Natalie: I did

Mommy: Natalie you know that Hashem not only hears what you say, but he can see everything you do. So maybe you should go back and put away the rest of your toys.

Natalie thinks about this and walks away. A few moments later ...

Natalie: Mommy, Hashem is sleeping.

1 + 1 = 1

SIL e-mailed another great Ben (3 years old) story...

Ben said this last night as he was going to bed.

Henna Bayla (one year old) is one. Hashem is One. It's funny that two people are one.

More fun with medical terms

4-year-old: If you [do something to which I object], I'm going to panic.

Me: Do you know what panic means?

4: It means I'm gonna have a heart attack.

Head games

6-year-old: I have a splitting headache.

Me: What does that mean?

6: Um, I know what a headache is, but I don't know what splitting is.

Sitting on the Wrong Side of the Bargaining Table

This past week, en route home from work, I called home just to check in. My husband told me that my youngest had demonstrated very silly antics, truly deemed improper behavior, and that he was grounded for the rest of the evening -- karate lessons, come home, eat dinner, go to bedroom and subsequently bed. On top of that he told my son, "No GameCube for a week."

My "smart" 5 1/2 year old said, "TWO WEEKS"!

Lately, he's been doing the countdown and says, "Only 4 more days till GameCube..."

Keeping time

I had told Mordechai (almost 6) that I should be home at 5:15 one afternoon a few weeks ago. It was 5:18 as I hurried into our apartment building's yard. A few steps from the door, I heard my cell phone ring. I answered it to hear - who else? - Mordechai on the other end of the line (or should I say airwaves?).

Me: Hi, sweetie. Guess what. I'm right at the door to the building!

Mordechai: You are?

Me: Yeah!

Mordechai: Oh. 'Cuz, you're running a little late, you know?

Cross-posted at May Cuties.

Surprises

Guest (over for dinner): I have a surprise for you.

4-year-old: What is it?

Guest: I'll show you after dinner.

4-year-old: Well, my sister hates surprises. Can you show it to me before dinner?

Ridiculous Nicholas

When I was a little kid, my mom babysat. Sort of like home day care, only better, because the kids were like part of our family all day.

There was a little boy named Nick, AKA Ridiculous Nicholas, who really lived up to his name. When he was about two, my mom told him to make his milk 'all gone', so he held the cup out past the edge of the high chair tray, turned it upside down, and announced proudly, "Milk all gone!"

Nick's mother was in the hospital for surgery at one point. His unique way of dealing with the stress was to collect all the sample soap they gave her. He would carry them around in a cloth bag and play with them: sorting, unwrapping, building towers, whatever. One day my mom found him sawing one of the bars in half with a play knife, and asked him what he was doing. With a straight face, he replied, "I'm making Kevin a Zestfully clean lunch!"

I love kids.

Oh, Okay.

My sister-in-law SIL just called me and said she had a story I should post, so here we go... My brother's car stalled yesterday, and AAA came to help him out. The tow truck shlepping his car somehow managed to drag it right into a parking sign or stop sign or something when it made too sharp of a turn, causing it actual damage. Brilliant.

Anyways, today he took the car in to his mechanic to get it checked out. This is what happened back at their house:

Ben (3 years old): Where's Daddy?

SIL: He had to take the car to Maven Motors.

Ben: Why?

SIL: To get the car fixed.

Ben: What's wrong with the car?

SIL: It got a boo-boo.

Ben: What's a boo-boo?

SIL: That means it got damaged.

Ben: Oh, okay.

:) Classic.

Several years ago my husband and I started a journal of our daughter's funny questions, anecdotes, observations, etc. We dubbed them "Nataliesms". Last night, we had one of those cute moments that we just needed to write down.

My 6 yr old daughter attends a Jewish day school with a dual curriculum. The school has strong roots in Zionism and the children are always studying about Israelie culture and government, including Ariel Sharon. They are also learning in the their secular program, Social Studies. Her teacher does a great job teaching and discussing with them all about world cultures, diversity, and tolerance. This was very evident, when last night I was reviewing with my daughter what she has been learning this week in school. She was very excited to tell me about the civil rights movement and what life was like for the Afroamerigastans.

I beamed at her as I listened to her proudly and passionately retell me the story of Rosa Parks and the bus, and all about a church and a very special man, the PRIME MINISTER Martin Luther King, Jr.

Now that is what we call a Nataliesm.

First aid

I was coughing as I have been wont to do these past several weeks or so. Sari turns to me and asks, "Are you need me to burp you?" What? Then by way of clarification: "You know, like when I cough and Namie (our sitter) burps me." She proceeds to demonstrate by whacking baby Ada on the back two or three times. Oh. I see.

More from former kids

My youngest brother Mordechai was just three when he was asked if he'd like to get married. His first response was no but after some thought, he changed his mind. Pressed for an explanation, he responded, "If I get married, then I can tell my kids to pick up my toys!"

Apparently, laziness ran in the family. When I was in kindergarten, I gazed wistfully at the high school girls passing us on the stairs and sighed, "I wish I were in high school." My teacher wanted to know why. I said, "because then I wouldn't have to work so much."

Technology transfer

Here's what my daughter says (they both do this, actually - ages 6 & 4) when I'm reading her a story and she needs to go to the bathroom:

"Daddy, can you pause it?"

Think this means they watch too many DVDs?

You Were Saying?

[Reposted from Kids Say the Darnest Things - SerandEz, Sep. 20, 2005]

[sic]

Anyway, we've known for a while that my nephew, Ben, has an incredible sense of humor, thank God. When Serach and I got engaged, we taught Ben her name. He was only one and a half, so he would repeat after us, "Do-dah!? [Dodah = Aunt] Rerach!" Only, he kept on adjusting the name... We'd laugh at his saying Dodah as if it was a question, and he noticed. He quickly adjusted, and started looking up as if to see if everyone's paying attention; then say "DODAH?!!", and... pause! Everyone would crack up, he'd smile, then say "Reraccccchhhhhh" while shaking his head.

Fast forward almost a year. I'm babysitting for Ben, and I'm sitting on our couch, just watching him I believe. He climbs up onto the couch, grabs his blanket, and sits there quietly for about a minute. I'm just looking at him, and he looks up at me, and he all of a sudden gets a big, mischievous smile on his face. He opens his mouth and says, "Dodah?!" and I crack up. His smile gets wider, and he says, "Stheraccccchhhhhh...." and then gets off and starts playing with a toy duck.

He's now about to hit three years old, and my sister-in-law sent everyone a couple of stories that happened recently.

This happened last night...
Ben loves Yocrunch Yogurts and was extremely excited when Hudi brought over 20 home from the store, as they were on sale. He decided he wanted to put them away in the fridge and over the course of 10 minutes as he found different places to stash his treats, he kept exclaiming "WOW! I love them! WOW! WOW! I love them!" At the end as he surveyed the fridge and saw the many yogurts all over the place he proclaimed, "WOW! It's a.... beautiful sight!"

I guess while I'm sharing Ben stories, I may as well mention one from last week, as well... I was telling him something and then I interrupted myself for something that was more pressing. When I finished my interruption, Ben looked up at me and said "You were saying?"

Personally, I think he should have a blog. He's by far the funniest - and smartest - kid I know.

Out of the Mouths of Adults...Who Were Once Kids

Yes, believe it or not, I was once a kid. I did and said interesting things like my kids do. I don't think my mother wrote them down, but she remembers some from time to time and relays them to me, as does my dad.

* Something I've heard over and over and OVER is the fact that the first real "sentence" I'd utter when I was probably around 2 1/2 or three was: "I want Coca Coca." My father loves to repeat this, telling me that when we'd be out on a road trip and would stop at a gas station that had the old Coca Cola (glass bottle) dispensing machines, that is what I'd say.

Interesting, 'cause I think I became somewhat of a Pepsi gal over the years.

* I was about 4 or 4 1/2 years old and was with my family and my aunt/uncle and cousins in Alabama, in Gatlinburg at some kind of mountain chalet or recreation center. I recall a huge wooden cathedral ceiling in this place and there was a band playing music. Apparently I walked up to the bandleader and asked if they could play "Hello, Dolly!" My cousin who's about 53 loves to remind me of this story whenever he sees me. (I still like the song a lot, by the way.)

* Throughout my growing up years, and still today, I was never too confrontational; I didn't really know how to have a fight, whether it be a verbal one or a physical one. When I would try to fight physically with my brothers, it looked like something from a Three Stooges scene, with me closing my eyes and continually slapping my brothers, one hand atop the other in quick succession.

And when I was really angry with one or both, I stood there and boldly looked them in the eye, and announced: "I'm so mad! I'm going to....mess up your bed!" And that's what I'd proceed to do: just toss around the bedspread and pillows that had been so neat and in their place.

Talk about anger management...

Polite?

I was making dinner tonight when the doorbell rang. It was my 4-yr. old's best friend, Emily, who lives 3 doors down and her Dad. They invited her over to play and for dinner.

When she returned, this was our conversation.

Me: Olivia, did you have fun?

Olivia: Yes, but I didn't like the yucky food Emily's mommy made.

Me: What was it?

Olivia: It was the same yucky food I had last time I was there.

Me: Which was?

Olivia: Bread with yucky stuff on it and yucky chicken.

Me: But you were still polite, right? You didn't tell Emily's mom it was yucky, did you?

Olivia: No, mommy. Don't worry. I didn't tell her it was yucky. Instead, I told her that it tasted like poop.

ARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Six-year-old arguments

- What animal is that?
- A bear.
- What kind of bear?
- I dunno.
- Yeah you do.
- No, I don't.
- It's a polar bear.
- No, it's not.
- Sure it is.
...
- I think you dunno what you're talkin' bout.
...
After reading her this post, I asked "What kind of bear is that?" She still claims she doesn't know.
...
<a few days later, Sweetie looks at the picture>
- Hey, a parrot! <sly grin>

Shhh ... Don't tell him about Lorena Bobbitt

This happened last year, when Seth was nearly 3 and had just finished potty training.

Scene: lying in bed reading books to Seth, who has both hands shoved down his pajama bottoms.

Seth: My pipi falls off.

Me: No, it doesn't.

Seth: Pipis don't fall off?

Me: No, you'll have your pipi all your life.

(Seth pulls down his pajamas to show me a tiny erection)

Seth: It gets big.

Me: So I see.

Seth: It gets little too.

Me: Yes, it can be big or little.

Seth: Pipis don't fall off when they get little?

Me: No. They stay on, big or little.

Seth: Don't worry about it then.

Me: That's right.

Seth: I need to pee.

Me: I thought so.

The Early Bird Catches the Worm

My husband and I are thrilled by our children's curiosity and lack of fear of insects. They dig around the ground looking for worms, they climb on trees looking for cicadas, they dig around in the bushes and the garden looking for catepillars, grasshoppers and crickets. When we come across something that looks quite strange (and we have found plenty that are) we will take them to the Nature center near our house and ask the naturalist what it is. Now, I know some people are a little protective of their young ones playing in the dirt or with insects because of germs. But please don't misunderstand me, they are not walking around without their shoes, or with greasy hair or filthy bodies, but playing in the yard, digging up dirt, examining what they have found, there is something so beautiful within that. It captures the essence of childhood innocence.

However, there are lines that can be and will be crossed. Obviously I get nervous when their comfort level extends to handling spiders (daddy long legs are the exception) and other potentially harmful bugs. But there is only one word that can describe what happen one afternoon last summer and that is DISGUSTING!

That evening, my 3 year old son told me that his underwear felt uncomfortable. I glanced over to him and thought maybe he had gotten a wedgie and as soon as I finished with whatever I was doing, I would help him out. Time passed, I forgot to help him and once again he tells me his underwear is bothering him. That the front is really itchy. About the time when he first told me he was uncomfortable, both he and my daughter were outside, under their trampling, looking for bugs. They were not fighting, they were out of my hair, and I actually got a few minutes of peace. Fast forward....Noah complains that he is itchy and Natalie pipes up and says "well that is because you were putting the worms down your underwear, but that's ok Mom, because I took them all out." "WHAT!!! Noah..You did WHAT?" "Noah put worms in his underwear, but Mom, really, it's ok..I got them out."

So I pulled him aside and immediately started to rip open underwear (Pull-ups). OH MY GOD.. YUCK!!! In there was a long, brown earthworm, squirming around his you- know-what...I thought I was going to faint. I grabbed him up, took him outside, ripped off the pants and shook them out. I think there were two more worms in the layers of the pull-up, just squirming all around. Words cannot explain the disgust I just witnessed. Awful images and worst case scenerios kept flashing across my mind. A friend of mine's daughter had ringworms, those white worms that get into your skin and come out when you poop....OMG!!! I had thought if my chiidren ever get lice, I would totally freak out, but I was wrong. Long, brown, wiggly worms in your child's underwear..comes quite close.

So, there is Mom, freaking out and there is my son, Noah, just smiling and giggling and shrugging his shoulders when again and again and again, my neighbors and I ask...WHY Noah WHY?

Is this what they mean when they said "Boys will be Boys."

Some Pencils Are Duller Than Others

A scene from tonight's episode of "Homework 'Round the Kitchen Table":

#1 son, (ten years old) was doing some Hebrew Chumash homework, and questioning the spelling of some words. I moved a little closer to see his workbook and noticed that his handwriting was not as nice as I'd seen it...before the winter/Chanukah school break. Normally it's very neat and clean, both in Hebrew and in English.

Me: "Hey, A, what's with your schoolwork?"

A: "What?"

Me: "You used to write nicer in Hebrew. What happened?"

A: (without missing a beat) "Duller pencils."

Life with Sweetie

PT says this blog is supposed to embarrass our kids. That's definitely an age thing, because my little Sweetie loves what I write about her. She wants me to read it again. She wants me to read more of my posts, not believing they're over her head. So here are a few shorts:

<Sweetie says something unremarkable>
- You gonna write that down?
- I only write what you say if it's funny.
<looks disappointed>

**********

<Sweetie comes in from outdoors, carrying a huge lump of snow>
- Look!
- Yes, very nice, get your boots and your snow back outside where they belong.
- <proudly> It's my baby.
- Well, your baby is just gonna have to freeze because I don't want her melting all over the kitchen.

**********

- I got an expensive nose.
- Do you know what 'expensive' means?
- Yeah.
- It means something that costs a lot of money.
- No it doesn't.

**********

<typical argument just because Sweetie likes being contrary>
- You dunno what you're talkin' about.
- I dunno what I'm talkin' neither. Duh.
(finally she admits it!)

Gobble This

When son #2 was 7 years old and in first grade (now 16), the class had a Thanksgiving feast. The children sweetly sat together at the table to share in the bountiful foods they had brought to the feast...just as the Native Americans and Pilgrims had done so long ago.

The teacher asked the children to go around the table and tell what they were thankful for. The children began: "I am thankful for my mommy and daddy". "I am thankful for my teacher". "I am thankful to G-d for this food". "I am thankful for my home".

And then, the proud moment came...my son began to speak..."I am thankful...THAT I'M NOT THE TURKEY!".

From This Afternoon...

Me: "It's time to take a nap now."

My three year-old daughter: "No, that doesn't sound like a good idea."

I asked Hashem...

Thank you PsychoToddler for starting this, it's a wonderful idea.

My sister had 2 daughters and was pregnant with her third child when my grandparents flew down to Baltimore one Sunday to visit. My grandparents were talking with Shoshana, who at 4 years old was the big girl in the family. Shoshana was expressing her frustrations at not having a brother, and she asked my grandparents for a big brother. My grandmother explained that she couldn't really have any big brothers, but maybe she could have a little brother.

Shoshana thought about this for a minute and said,

I want the baby to be a boy so I'll have a little brother!

My sister responded that it's not up to us, it's up to Hashem whether we have a boy or a girl. Shoshana thought about this for a minute as my grandparents looked on, then stuck her head under the table and started muttering "wussawussawussawussa" under the table. My grandparents looked at each other, looked at my sister, and waited.

All of a sudden, she comes back up with a big smile on her face. Everyone looks at her questioningly, and she grins and says,

I asked Hashem, and He said okay!!

She now has a little brother; our grandparents, who are Conservative, love this story.

Time Out

This is a little administrative post for the members of this Blog:

The Blog is really coming together nicely! Congratulations on all the funny posts!

2 things:

1. There are a lot of us here. That means that we'll have no shortage of things to say, but it also means there will be a lot of kids involved! Each with bizarre nicknames to hide their identities (or bizarre Hebrew names). This will get confusing really quickly. I have a few ideas about how to deal with this:

a. I can make a little area in the sidebar for each of you to
delineate your Cast of Characters

ie

Fudge: girl 1989
Moe: boy 1990
etc

b. You can just put in a brief clarification at the beginning of each
of your posts to remind us who these kids are and how old they are

ie

So Fudge (my 16 year old daughter) says: Abba, you have a lot of hair for someone your age.

2. Not everyone in the group or who reads this group is an Orthodox Jew (I in fact would like to recruit a few more goyim--I have people in mind). Please either define your yeshivishe jargon or omit it.

Any suggestions? How do you want to proceed?

No, thanks

Before starting school this year, I was asking Mordechai what he'd like to learn in Pre-1A. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Would you like to learn the alphabet and aleph-bet?

Mord (rolling eyes): C'mon, Mom. I know that already.

Me: Math?

Mord: Yeah, yeah. Like plus and that other thing you showed me in my notebook (referring to multiplication table found on the inside cover of his marble composition notebook). I don't know that so well so I need to practice that alot.

Me: Reading?

Mord: Yeah, so I could read the 'miros (z'mirot - Shabbat songs) by myself.

Me: How 'bout reading English?

Mord (with a dismissive wave of his hand): Oh, I could just sound it out. No, thanks.

Scent of a Woman

Page 10 of one "Scratch and Sniff" book poses the question: Do you like the scent of this perfume? Sari dutifully scratches and sniffs and responds, "Mmmm. Smells like a lady!"

Points of view

[Scene: Sari's hugging big, red bear which does belong to our neighbor, Penina - despite that which you are about to read.]

Penina: You really like my bear, huh?

Sari: It's my bear.

Penina: No, it's my bear and I let you borrow it.

Sari: No, it's my bear and I let you keep it in your house. I'm so nice, right?

Royals we ain't

Me: How are my princesses today?

4-year-old: Daddy, we're not princesses.

Me: No? What are you?

4-year-old: We're just plain commoners.

Martin Luther Day

Olivia: Monday is Martin Luther Day, Mommy.

Me: Yes, it is. Do you know who Martin Luther King was, Olivia?

Olivia: Yes, he didn't want to ride in the front of the bus. He wanted to drive in a car.

Me: Oh really?

Olivia: Yeah, so the policeman arrested him.

Me: Why was that?

Olivia: Because he farted in his underwear.

Me: So why is Monday a holiday for Dr. King?

Olivia: A holiday? What does that mean, Mommy?

I'm getting all faklempt

I'm so honored I can hardly type! Here I am, blogging with the pros. Well, all I can say is this: my kids had better say some really cute stuff tomorrow!

My Target Demographic

The PT: Hey!

Me: Hay is for horses!

The PT: Hahahahahahahaha

Me: You never heard that one before, did you?

The PT: hahahaha no hahahahahah

Sometimes Our Kids Teach Us What We Need To Be Taught

October 2005 I recorded this tidbit from child #3, who is 5 1/2 years old.

I'd noticed that said boy had a red ear. I thought that perhaps it was the sign of an infection and wondered aloud at that. Then I learned that he'd gotten bumped at his babysitter's house.

I kept looking at the ear, touching it and commenting on it. And when it was dinner time, I turned to him sitting beside me and said, "It bothers me to see your ear so red."

Without missing a beat he retorted,"SO DON'T LOOK AT ME!"


***********************

When my oldest child, a boy, was 6 1/2, he had this to teach me.

I'd told him something and later told him the same thing, something I was intending to do.

He sort of whined and said, "I know -- you told me already!"

He paused briefly, then said, "Why don't you take a book and write down what you tell me so you'll know and remember!"

************************

And then there's middle child, a girl, who very bluntly told me a couple of years ago when I supplied the right answer for a math question, " You know, Mummy...you're smarter than you look!"

Why toddlers don't make good princes

Oh goody! I get to be part of yet another blog, because I don't have enough distractions already.

Fortunately, I have all kinds of training as a professional journalist and know how to accurately misquote people. This just happened the other day, as I was babysitting two darling girls across the street; the oldest one is age four. I'll call her Princess, for reasons that will become apparent in the dialogue.

My son is three and worships her.

Princess sits on the bottom step and aims her baby blues at my helpless son, Seth.

Princess: "There's a monster in my room and you have to go kill it!"

Seth gazes uncertainly up the stairs. "The light's not on."

Princess: "You HAVE to kill the MONSTER in my bedroom with your sword!"

Seth: "But I'm scared of the dark."

Oh well, I guess you had to be there. I thought it was hilarious. (After yours truly flicked on the lights, the brave Seth did indeed go upstairs and slay the hideous monster, in case you were worried).

Next time I will try to remember something less lame, I promise.

As The Blog Turns

Funny how things work themselves out sometimes.

I love reading blogs in which parents talk about their children's antics, their children's wise or wacky words. One of these bloggers is Sweettooth120. Some time ago, I read something she'd written about her young daughter's childish wisdom, and thought it was so sweet.

Then I thought of some of my children's words that I've collected sporadically over the past 10 1/2 years of parenthood and how entertained I was, as well as other friends and family members.

And so I wrote to Sweettooth120 to make the suggestion that maybe we should start a blog of parents/grandparents/aunts/uncles/teachers/pediatricians, etc. who would share with the cyberworld the childishly simple, childishly wise and childishly entertaining words of the children in their lives. She thought it was a great idea and suggested I post something about it, putting a shout-out for recruits.

I can't recall if I did, but I know that she did again, within her comments section, within other people's comments section...one of those people being Psychotoddler who loves to share, and wisely so, pearlies of wisdom from his wee ones. And just now I received an invitation to join a new blog: Our Kids Speak.

Okay, so maybe it took me to come up with the idea and a couple other people to get it in action, but now that we're here, let's give our kids a hand and listen to what they have to say!

Kids Say the Darndest Things...

One of the reasons I started blogging was to give myself an impetus to record all of the unintentionally funny things my kids have said to me over the years. The sad truth is that I have already forgotten most of them. But a choice few still remain in long term memory. Like the time my oldest son was 3 and he had to go to the ER and he told them they could put the "blood crusher" around his arm. Or the naming ceremony for my daughter Elana, where my son Rafi (also 3) asked "How do you spell Iguana?"

But there are many more zany sayings that I thought were hysterical at the time, and now I just can't remember what they were. So, one of the reasons for starting PsychoToddler was to have an outlet to record them. As I have made my way across the blogosphere over the past few years, I have discovered that there are quite a few other parents of vocabularily challenged tots out there, and it turns out that humans all around the world do in fact share one thing in common: The desire to make fun of and embarrass our kids in front of as many other adults as possible.

So it is with much nudging and prodding that I launch the inaugural post of Our Kids Speak, because Kid Talk, Kid Blog, Kid Speak, and Kids eat Boogers were all taken already.

If you feel that you would like to be a part of this blog, email me at mskiermd at sbcglobal dot net.

OK here's the first one:

Mommy: The PT (not her real name), if you were an animal, what kind of animal would you be?

The PT: A wolf.

Mommy: Really? That's interesting. What about Abba?

The PT: A dog.

Mommy: What about me?

The PT: A smaller dog.

Mommy: OK, what about Shua?

The PT: A little dog.

Mommy: I see. What about Fudge?

The PT: A penguin.