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    Tall Tales From Little People

    | London, England, UK | Children, Sons & Daughters, Top

    (My five-year-old daughter has just started a new school. I am collecting her one afternoon when the teacher asks to talk to me.)

    Teacher: “Hello, Mrs. [My Name]. Your daughter is catching up well, but she has said something recently that I thought I had better ask you about.”

    Me: “Okay.”

    Teacher: “She has told us all that you are not her real mother. She says that you found her on the doorstep in a basket and adopted her.”

    Me: “That’s interesting.”

    Teacher: “I don’t really think she is telling the truth, but she is very convincing.”

    (I look at my daughter, who is sitting there wide-eyed, listening to her whole fantasy being laid out to me.)

    Me: “It wasn’t a basket. It was a cake tin; somebody left me a little fruitcake.”

    (I turn my attention back to the teacher.)

    Me: “Thanks for letting me know. It’s all a complete fabrication, of course. We’ll have a little chat about the perils of spinning stories and pretending they are true.”

    (My, now grown-up daughter has continued making up stories all her life. She writes a lot in her spare time, and now works in the TV and film industry!)

    All Little Girls Dream Of Their Red Wedding

    | NY, USA | Children, Sons & Daughters, Themed Giveaway, Top

    (My daughter is running around with a rubber knife from her kitchen play-set.)

    Daughter: “Mama, come here! I want to tell you something.”

    (I go over and kneel down in front of her.)

    Me: “What is it, sweetie?”

    (My daughter gets up close, and talks in the creepiest whisper imaginable.)

    Daughter: “Mama, the Lannisters send their regards…”

    (She leans in and starts poking me in the chest with her knife.)

    Daughter: “Now you die! Die! Die!”

    Me: “Was Daddy letting you watch Game of Thrones?”

    (My daughter nods. I turn to my husband.)

    Me: “You. Explain this. Now.”

    Time For Mother To Face The Music

    | QLD, Australia | Parents & Guardians, Themed Giveaway, Top

    (I like to listen to my iPod frequently. I listen to a wide variety of music including soft piano music, jazz, and heavy metal. My mother doesn’t like me listening to heavy metal, but she hasn’t forbidden me from buying CDs or from listening to the music. I’m folding the laundry while listening to some jazz. My mother is on the other side of the room.)

    Mother: “I wish you wouldn’t listen to that metal stuff; it’s so loud I can hear it over here!”

    (I shrug in confusion, but don’t say anything. A few days later I’m reading a book in the living room while listening to soft piano music. My mother walks past.)

    Mother: “That metal stuff is really bad for your ears; if I can hear it from the other room then it’s too loud and you’ll be deaf by the time you’re 40.”

    (I pull out my headphones so that the soft piano music comes out of the small speaker.)

    Me: “Really?”

    Mother: “You just switched that over!”

    (A few days after that while listening to jazz again, my father asks to borrow my iPod to take a picture. I unplug the iPod leaving the headphones in my ears knowing it won’t take long. My mother walks past while Dad’s still taking the photo.)

    Mother: “Now [My Name], I’m really concerned about the disregard over your own health. I can hear your head banging music from the other room; it is so loud it is making me lose my concentration.”

    Dad: “Um… [Mother's Name]…”

    (Both my mother and I turn to look at my dad, and he’s waving my iPod in front of us.)

    Dad: “What music was she listening to?”

    Mother: “Um…”

    Not How Sleeping Works As A Rule Of Thumb

    | Manchester, England, UK | Parents & Guardians, Top

    (My dad has dementia. As such, dealing with him is a lot like dealing with a child. We’re trying to get him to go to sleep, and I’ve just convinced him to close his eyes.)

    Me: “Alright, na-night.”

    Dad: “Na-night.”

    Me: *walking away* “Love you.”

    Dad: “Love you, too.”

    Me: *at the door* “Are those eyes closed? You sure you’re not peeking?”

    Dad: “Nope, not peeking.”

    Me: *gives thumbs up*

    Dad: *eyes closed, gives thumbs up back*

    Learning Colorful Language

    | VA, USA | Children, Friends, Sons & Daughters, Top

    (I’m about two years old. My father works in a butcher’s shop with a young black man. He greets me the same way every time I see him, with a fist-bump, and then he says:)

    Father’s Coworker: “Yo, lil’ [n-word], sup?”

    My Mom: “Could you please not teach her that word?”

    Father’s Coworker: “It’s cool, Mrs. J. She’s too young to understand what I’m saying anyway.”

    (We come into the shop another day, and I see my father’s coworker working behind the counter. I begin bouncing in my seat to go see him. My mother ignores me, until I furiously point my fist in his direction and begin indignantly shouting:)

    Me: “[N-word]! [N-word]! [N-word]! [N-word]!”

    (The entire shop glares at my very red-faced mother!)


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