Category: Children

Protecting Children From Themselves

| OK, USA | Aunts & Uncles, Children, Sons & Daughters

(My uncle is a very large, hairy man — picture the stereotypical biker. He has two sons, and the mother had left a long time ago. His oldest has hit middle school, and he starts to act like a little s***. My uncle takes away privileges when the kid acts out. One day he gets called down to the school and is met by Child Protection Services (CPS) and a cop.)

School Official: “[Uncle], your son has said you’ve been beating him, and not letting him have food. Is this true?”

Uncle: “What? No!”

(He looks at his son and sees him smirking. He’s mad at his dad because he took his game system away. The CPS and cop explain how they will need to do an investigation, etc. My uncle looks at his son, looks at himself, and figures, why fight it?)

Uncle: “Take him.”

Everyone: “What!”

Uncle: “If my son really feels abused there is no way a single dad who looks like me can win. Take him.”

(At this point the cop started to smile and gave my uncle a wink. He agreed with my uncle and they took my cousin and placed him with social services for three days. By the end of it my cousin was crying and confessed to the cops he lied because his dad took his gaming system and his friends said he should ‘get back’ at his dad. He returned home and nothing more was said. Cousin straightened up from then on and went on to med school.)

Whole New Meaning To “This Is My Blood”

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

(It is near the end of Lent.)

Woman: *clearly in a rush* “Can I buy this?” *practically throwing chocolate bar on conveyor belt*

Me: “Sure.”

(I try to get people like that out of the store as quickly as possible, but the machine decides to freeze at that exact moment. The woman is looking over her shoulder frantically as I call a manager to the front, since it needs his code to reboot. I see a little girl in pigtails run to the front where the woman is and the woman sighs.)

Girl: “MOM! I thought you were giving up chocolate for Lent!”

Woman: “Listen, honey, if Jesus had a period, He wouldn’t give up chocolate either.”

This Kids Gone Bananas

| USA | Children, Sons & Daughters

(My three-year-old son is trying to ‘saw’ a banana off the hand of the bananas on the table.)

Me: “What are you doing?”

Son: “Trying to eat a banana.”

Me: “But didn’t you have breakfast? What did you have?”

Son: “I did. And I’m full. I had pancakes.”

Me: “So what do you need the bananas for?”

Son: “Just for a finishing touch!”

Forever Chasing Cars

| USA | Children, Sons & Daughters

(My three-year-old son is playing with his cars and has them all over the floor.)

Me: “Okay, [Son], it’s time to put away all your cars.”

Son: “No! Never!”

Me: *sighing* “You know, that’s what we’re supposed to do when we’re done playing.”

(My son then starts visibly deteriorating into meltdown mode, and the howling begins.)

Son: “Well, I’m NOT going to put them away! I still want to play with them, and I want them all over the floor!”

(The ranting begins, resulting in:)

Son: “…and I don’t want anything for Christmas from you!”

(I am confused, but his rant isn’t over yet.)

Son: “You can take all of my cars and put them in the trash!”

(My daughter, his older sister, chimes in.)

Daughter: “Or mommy can put them in the box and send them all off.”

Me: *hopeful* “In that case, I’m just going to give you a box and you can dump them all in. Then I can throw it out.”

(My son stops for an analytical pause.)

Son: *accusatory* “No! That’s CLEANING UP!”

(My tactics are busted.)

Me: “Well… then, here’s a trash bag; you can dump everything in.”

Son: *calmly* “Thank you.”

(Say what?! My son eventually put everything away in their proper boxes, and in their proper places, all on his own.)

Son: *politely* “If you put these in the trash, I’ll really appreciate it.”

(My mental processes have just been badly messed up!)

An Energetic Argument

| USA | Children, Sons & Daughters

(I give my three-year-old boy a drink.)

Me: “Drink this; it’s good for you. It has electrolytes in it.”


Me: “No, not electric lights. Electrolytes. E-lec-tro-lytes.”

Son: *mischievous twinkle in his eyes* “You mean ‘electric lights’?”


Me: “Sure, it has electric lights.”

(Choose your battles.)