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    Category: Sons & Daughters

    I Wanna Be Princess Leia!

    | USA | Parents & Guardians, Sons & Daughters

    (I’m re-shelving books in the children’s section when a mother comes by with her son, who’s all of six years old. He’s clearly excited about getting to pick out books he can read. As I’m putting away books, the following exchange takes place:)

    Boy: “Ooh, Mama, how about this one?”

    Mom: “Uh… it looks a little higher than your reading level, babe. But if you wanna try, go for it.”

    (The kid happily hands his mother a book, then stares at the shelves.)

    Boy: “Mom, I want a princess book.”

    (Internally I cringe, thinking the kid is about to hear, “No, those are for girls.”)

    Mom: “Well go find one then.”

    (He returns after a minute and holds one up to her.)

    Mom: “Let me see it. Cinderella, huh? Yeah. I think you’ll like that one. Okay, go find some more books.”

    (He grabs about three more and brings them back to his mom.)

    Mom: “Wait, is that Star Wars? Is that MY child, reading Star Wars? Oh yes it is, uh-huh, that is MY child!”

    (She sounded so proud. It was the cutest thing!)

    Matrix Portal

    | Finland | Sons & Daughters

    (My daughter has never seen The Matrix or played Portal, but she knows some of the lines… or so I thought.)

    Me: “Can I put [slightly embellished version of what she just said] on Not Always Related?”

    Daughter: “I didn’t say it that way. That would be a lie. Like the spoon.”

    Me: “What spoon?”

    Daughter: “The one that exists in your mind and nowhere else. The spoon is a lie!”

    Me: “No, the cake is a lie. There is no spoon!”

    Time To Shelve This Elf Behavior

    | MN, USA | Sons & Daughters, Spouses & Partners

    (My son has a shelf-elf he named Freddie, much to my husband’s dismay, though it is a joint effort to move him as necessary every night. Last December, “Freddie” made treats, including nutella-filled croissants. It is now the day before Easter, and I have a handful of family members to feed, so I make the croissants as a treat. My son, while grabbing his second, gets excited.)

    Son: “These are what Freddie made for me!”

    Me: “Yup! He knew you liked them so much that he taught me how to make them, too.”

    Husband: *glaring at me and muttering under his breath* “Christmas is behind us!”

    Her Talents Have Room For Improvement

    | East Stroudsburg, PA, USA | Sons & Daughters

    (My 16-year-old daughter has recently started taking piano lessons. She is advancing reps duly, which has caused some of the people we know to call her (jokingly) “a prodigy”. I go into her room to say hello. She’s practicing the piano. Her room is a mess.)

    Me: “You’re room is a mess! You can’t even see the floor!”

    Daughter: “Dad, I’m a child prodigy. Mozart’s room was probably a mess too!”

    The Ambulance Will Just Have To Wait

    | Toronto, ON, Canada | Children, Sons & Daughters

    (My son has just turned three and he is getting to the phase where he likes diggers and buses and firetrucks. He sees an off-duty ambulance parked near an intersection we are stopped at.)

    Son: “Mama! Mama!”

    Me: “What is it?”

    Son: “Firetruck!”

    Me: *it takes a minute to process what he is pointing at* “Oh, you are close. That one is an ambulance. Can you say ambulance?”

    Son: *trying the word out* “Am-boo… Am-booo…”!

    Me: “That’s right. Ambulance.”

    Son: “Amboo… Amba…” *gives up and says with determination* “No… firetruck!” *nods like he’s proud of himself*

    (My partner and I almost missed the light, we were laughing so hard.)

    Padding Out Between Meals

    | AB, Canada | Sons & Daughters

    (We are tidying up the kitchen after supper when I point to a package that hadn’t been put away after our last grocery run.)

    Me: “This doesn’t belong here.”

    Wife: *grabs it and starts taking it to the master bathroom*

    Daughter: *washing dishes, not paying too much attention* “What are you doing? I eat those for snacks!”

    (My wife and I start laughing. My wife hides the package behind her. Note that my daughter is 14 years old.)

    Daughter: “What? What?”

    Me: “[Daughter], say that again…”

    Daughter: “What? That I eat them for snacks?”

    (My wife shows her the package of Maxi Pads. My daughter is mortified and embarrassed.)

    Me: “Is there something you need to tell us?”


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