Sh!t My Kids Say
By Contributing Author, The Major of Kay Nou = Our House
Alright, this concept is hardly novel. We have all seen the hilarious videos coursing through the Youtubes making us double over with laughter. This meme can be traced back to comedy writer, Justin Halpern, whose Twitter feed based on funny utterances from his father was eventually made into a CBS television series. It ran for a single season before fulfilling its destiny in the dustbin of cancelled TV shows. It also helped to keep William Shatner’s acting career on life support for a little while longer.
So, I come to you today offering this blatant rip-off of Mr. Halpern’s work. Wait, perhaps that’s not quite accurate. The words uttered by my kids may not be side-splitting in and of themselves. Rather, the humor probably comes from my reaction to these expressions. I hope you will find that there is sufficient truth contained in these gems to bring my points home.
To set the scene, it is helpful to know that I am an extremely grouchy 47-year old father. Years ago, I made a pact with my spouse of 20 years in which I agreed to allow her to slam my hand in her car door should I become what I poetically termed “A grouchy old, white guy.” While all my carpal bones and phalanges are still intact, I caught my saintly wife oiling the hinges of the door of her Accord Hybrid the other day. I instantly broke into a cold sweat. I also realized that I need to get happy real fast.
Here are the players:
• Child A = 18-year old, male college student. Smart enough to study physics at an academically challenging institution of higher learning. Dumb enough to think that he’s smarter than his old man.
• Child B = 15-year old, female high school student. Though well capable of hard work, she often seeks out others to carry her load. She is like Sir Robin at the bridge scene of Monty Python and the Holy Grail: “Hey, I’ve got a great idea. Why doesn’t Lancelot go first?”
• Child C = 6-year old, male 1st grader. Adopted at age 3 from Haiti, he has adapted to the American way of life a little too fluently. While eating a plateful of pasta recently, he disdained a noodle that had dropped from his plate onto the otherwise clean table, claiming, “I don’t eat dirty food.” As if I had never witnessed him with a mouthful of dirt in his native land? Child C is blessed with a special gift of finding the weaknesses of others and jabbing a shiv directly into that spot.
Without further ado, sh!t my kids say:
There’s nothing to do. (Child A, B, and C). Why oh why do these four words conjure images of sending my children to Dickensian child-labor sweatshops? In a middle-class home containing literally hundreds of toys and thousands of books, you have the nerve to launch this sh!t at me just because I won’t let you watch TV right now? Trust, you don’t want me to come up with something for you to do.
What’s for dinner? (Child B and C). Why the ef do you care? You’re not going to eat it anyway. Seriously, Child A won’t eat chicken, but loves beef, pork, and sausage. Child B loves chicken but won’t touch beef (unless it’s a hamburger), and will abide pork cutlets, but not ribs or barbecue (but sometimes she likes them). She hates sausage. Child C doesn’t like the look of anything. Then he’ll eat it all. And then the next time, he won’t touch it. No one eats vegetables.
Daddy, you have to play with me. (Child C). Do I look like a big, slow kid to you? For crypin’ out loud, I’m 72 years old. I want to sit on the couch and stare at the wall in a fruitless attempt to gain inner peace. Also, you fail to remember that each time I play with you, you leave abruptly, stating, “I don’t want to play this game anymore.” Sorry for my efforts to teach you the rules.
There’s a really nice dress on sale. (Child B). I know what this means. It’s my kryptonite. I can’t refuse my daughter’s requests for new clothing. Game over. Superman drops to his knees. He’s powerless.
Dad, I was wondering if… (Child A). This is similar to the last one. Except, I’m already reaching for my wallet to make sure it’s still there. My lips are already pursing to form a single-syllable negative response. I usually have no problem denying requests from this one.
I want [a dog, a Play Station, an Escalade] for my birthday. (Child C). Your birthday was last week. Talk to me in 11 ½ months, Pepito.
No! NO!! NO!!!!!!! (uttered in a rising crescendo of volume and emotion). (Child C). This one always gets me. It usually follows a simple age-appropriate request like, “Can you please get me a roll of paper towels from the cupboard?” or “Please wash your hands for dinner,” or “Do you want tuna for lunch?” To an outsider listening in through the walls of our home, it would appear as though we are dipping the child in boiling oil.
Daddy, you make the best (meatballs, chicken soup, waffles). (Child B). Thank you. Now I’m assured that the next time I make this meal, using exactly the same recipe and ingredients, you will hate it.
I’m watching the balance on my checking account closely. But, I really need to buy this video game. Besides, I’m working a ton this week. (Child A). I love this one. Okay, you’re getting fairly decent grades in higher-level math courses. Why can’t you understand the simple economics of minimum wage labor?
I don’t have to clean that up. I didn’t touch it last. Or So-and-so was eating it. I only took the last bite. I don’t have to put it in the dishwasher. (Child A, B, or C, take your pick). Let’s not think of this as a game of tag. Instead, this is like hockey. I don’t care if you actually put the puck in the net. If you assisted in any manner, you get a point. Now clean the fecking thing up!
I didn’t see it. (Child A, B, or C, and sometimes mom). Ladies and gentlemen, my eyesight is very good. But, it’s not supernatural. Everyone in the house has been walking over that object in the middle of the floor for the past two or three days without bending down to pick it up. The only reason I have left it there is for scientific/sociological purposes. I wanted to see whether any of you would take the bait.
Mom’s really mad. (Child A or B). No sh!t she’s mad. You F-ed up this time. Dad flies off the handle all the time with slight provocation. When mom goes thermonuclear, you have a real problem, Sport.
I don’t want to go in the pool. It has bugs in it. (Child B and C). OMG! I just spent an hour cleaning it. It’s spotless. I would have killed a nun to have this pool when I was a kid. Of course there are one or two spiders in a 20,000 gallon body of water. You’re in their house now. Suck it up!
Your food looks delicious, Dad. Can I have some? (Child A, B, or C). As grouchy as I am. I always share. My kids know this and prey upon me.
I didn’t actually punch Jacob in the face on the bus. I just made a fist and he leaned forward really fast. (Child C). Insert your own response: __________________________________________.
You’re crazy, Dad! Or I’m scared of you right now. (Child A, B, or C). Thank you. This is what I want to hear. It means that my message has finally gotten through to you. Apparently, you fear the consequences of repeating the same harmful course of action in the future. Congratulations. You are now on your way toward a bright, safe, and prosperous future. Of course, there will be therapy involved.
About the Author: The Major is an attorney and former Army officer. He and his wife (and fellow blogger) Running Girl are doing their best to raise a family of five in Western New York. Please visit their family blog at Kay Nou = Our House
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