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    Category: Sons & Daughters

    I Feel Like Chicken Tonight Every Night

    | Hobart, TAS, Australia | Children, Sons & Daughters, Spouses & Partners

    (I am in the car. I am popping into a shop to pick up some take-away dinner. My son is four years old.)

    Son: “Daddy’s going to buy so much chicken, isn’t he? Then he’s going to eat and eat and eat it all until his belly is just too big.”

    Wife: “Why do you say that?”

    Son: *with a knowing sigh* “Because that’s daddy and his chicken.”

    Wife: “Is your father taking you out of the house to buy chicken when I’m not there?”

    No Longer A Gut Feeling

    | Columbia, SC, USA | Children, Sons & Daughters

    Me: *calling downstairs* “Daddy?”

    Dad: *comes upstairs* “Yes?”

    Me: “… I’ve just been sick.”

    Dad: “In your stomach?”

    Me: “Well, not anymore.”

    Potty Mouth

    | Sacramento, CA, USA | Children, Sons & Daughters

    (I am around three years old. My younger sister, Melissa, whom we call Missy, has a poopy diaper, so I run to tell my mother in the living room, where she is currently entertaining guests.)

    Me: “Mommy, Missy has a s***ty diaper!”

    Mom: *embarrassed at my language* “Don’t you mean, ‘messy,’ honey?”

    Me: “Okay. ‘Messy’ has a s***ty diaper!”

    I See Dead People

    | NJ, USA | Children, Sons & Daughters, Themed Giveaway

    (My mother has told me that I would say this on multiple car rides in the same area when I am three or four years old.)

    Me: *points at a house* “Mommy, someone DIED there…”

    A Heads Up: Children Grow Up

    | PA, USA | Parents & Guardians, Sons & Daughters

    (I’m a recent college graduate still living with my parents. My mom sometimes has a hard time accepting that I’m in my twenties, despite the fact that I have a job writing and editing romance/erotica short stories. She just thinks of me as an amateur author and occasionally asks to read my published work, which I tell her she shouldn’t do. We’re watching ‘Shark Tank’ and a man comes in trying to market a product called ‘Morning Head’ which helps tame bed-head hair. We’re all a bit in shock over the name, but my dad and I are the most vocal about it.)

    Dad: “This guy is nuts! How did he even manage to sell any of these? That one shark is right; you can get the same results with a damp washcloth!”

    Me: “I think it’s more of a novelty thing. This way people can joke and say stuff like, ‘Hey, I gave so-and-so ‘Morning Head’ for his birthday. Ha ha.’”

    (My dad and I both laugh, but my mom stares at me with a mix of horror and surprise.)

    Mom: “This is why you’re not allowed to grow up!”

    Me: “And this is why you’re not allowed to read my work!”


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