Animals and Kids...
My youngest are boys, aged 1 and 2 (actually, they're only 11 months apart - don't believe midwives and their old wives tales about not being able to get pregnant if you're breastfeeding) are at the interesting/cute stage.

The 2 year old loves animals, and his younger brother tends to try to copy anything he does. This leads to some interesting encounters with our cats, especially when the boys decide they want to 'play' with the poor ginger sod. I had to stop the youngest from pulling out the cat's whiskers while his brother cuddled it half to death last night.

Too be fair to the cat, he'll never raise a paw in anger - no matter what they try and do. He just waits then plots his revenge...

...like the morning the cat found a mouse in the garden, played with it. Cue Mrs.Coops screaming as the cat returns home, and presents his toddler 'playmate' with a now half-dead mouse. And as with most children when given a new toy, he wouldn't let go off his 'Mooss' until Daddy was gotten out of bed to turn on the Thomas the Tank Engine DVD as a distraction.

Also, he's just learnt to say 'frog' - unfortunately it sounds alot like 'fuck' when he shouts it in Sainsburys.
( HSDriver was probably still at work on, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 8:35, Reply)

Dogging 1 year old
Many years ago (10 to be exact) my little lad was in the toddling stage. Now, I didn't know that he had learned how to climb out of his cot, but I found out one Sunday morning when I was enjoying my Sunday "lie in" with Mrs MICMAC.
I was really getting into the swing of it, when the look of mild amusement on my Dearests' face turned into shocked horror, as my cherubic son's face appeared above my left shoulder, and said "Hooray!! go faster Daddy!!"

I put a lock on the bedroom door that afternoon
(micmac is happy as a pig in shite, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 7:32, 4 replies)

when I was very little, I was approached by four men in a park
One winked at me and asked if I'd like them to 'give you some golden brown.'

Luckily my Mum taught me not to talk to Stranglers.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 5:40, Reply)

Kids
My daughter has just turned four, and as a result has everybody wrapped around her little finger. As part of the custody settlement that I went through I get to have a little chat with her over the phone every Tuesday evening.

And thus it was that we were chatting away the other night, when Daughter Dearest is interrupted by her vile harpy of a mother calling her to dinner, admonishing that she 'wasn't going to ask twice'.

A slight pause. I hear Daughter Dearest put the phone down and ask "Why are you interrupting me when I'm talking to my Daddy? You always tell me not to interrupt you, why are you interrupting me?"

Cue the ex-wife doing the 'speechless' thing.

Daughter Dearest gets back on the phone, heaves a huge sigh, and mutters into the phone, "Mummy's talking and it's all like bleah bleah bleah. She's boring, Daddy."

What an awesome kid.
(thanateros Does Not Play Well With Others, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 4:36, 1 reply)

I received a letter from the goverment
Apparently I'm not allowed any more children as the playgrounds getting rather empty.
(shake'n'bake Tally Ho, Biatch!, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 3:31, Reply)

the innocent are great...
I visited my family in manchester yesterday for a family thing (as you might imagine), and, among notable others, I had the pleasure of my nephew Ben's company.

Ben, bless him, is four years old. in his infinite childish innocence, he has developed a habit of asking anyone who is rich in years when they are going to die (or sometimes "go up" as thats how he sees it).

much hilarity ensues with venerable relatives.
(asme, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 2:42, Reply)

Curiosity... erm... made my Dad look like a paedo...
I was three. Went something like this.

Me; "What do men have instead of lady-parts?"
Mam; "Willys"
Me; "Does Daddy have a willy."
Mam; "Yes. Show her your willy Dad, she'll have to see one sooner of later."

My Da does. Begrudgingly. My Mam is a persuasive lady.
Later, my Da takes me with him to the pub...

Me (to random man at the bar); "Have you got a willy?"
Man; "Yes"
Me; "Can I see it?"
Man; "erm...no"
Me; "My Da's got a willy and it's MASSIVE!"

People stop mid-drink. An eerie silence descends over the bar. My Da, completely unphased says "Buy this girl whatever she wants to drink"

I'd like to think this experience hasn't altered my life, but I'm pretty sure I got into Sparrow Dodger's pants by asking to see his willy in a bar... I'm pretty sure he bought me drinks for asking that question too...

Aaaahhhh... The words of Philip Larkin ring so true....
(Ryfelwr can't stop here... this is bat country, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 0:40, 2 replies)

Don't look back.
I'm a reasonably big bloke with a massive beard. Wandering up the street one day, I was walking behind a dad carrying his young daughter. She was looking out over his shoulder and seemed quite taken by my extreme beardiness. Finally she announced in a very loud voice, "DAD! The man behind us is REALLY hairy!"

He never turned, didn't even pause, just broke straight into a brisk jog.
( growfybruce, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 0:26, Reply)

Abortion Art
I guess this is linked to children..

Some of you may have heard about this, there may even be a thread lurking around somewhere about it that I'm too lazy to find.
Anyway, there's an art student in America called Aliza Shvarts who says she got herself pregnant and induced abortions several times. The resulting blood is forming part of an exhibition.
The university says it's all just performance art, but she insists it's real.
Being a pretentious wanker art student myself, I'd be interested to hear people's opinions on this, whether it's real or not.
Conceptual art is obviously about pushing boundaries and shock values, but has she gone too far? Can there ever be a line which artists shouldn't cross?

www.nytimes.com/2008/04/19/arts/design/19arts-CONTROVERSYO_BRF.html?ref=arts
(reducedfatLOLcat, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 0:22, 11 replies)

when i was a precocious little brat
of about 4, my parents were test driving a shiny new saab. my dad had all but clinched the part exchange deal with the salesman when my little voice piped up from the back seat...

"oh good daddy, does the clutch slip on this one like it does on yours?"

in my defence, i must have thought it meant something good. but i think my father felt like part exchanging me.

although my hair is now dark brown with only a tiny hint of redness, it was ginger when i was a baby. a ginger, screaming baby. must be every parent's worst nightmare. i'm surprised they didn't send me straight back.
( rachelswipe with a fork, Mon 21 Apr 2008, 0:20, Reply)

Oh and another:
I am studying to be a teacher, so I was doing some observations at the schools. One time, I was observing an English class where the teacher was going over the vocabulary words of the day. One of the words was "Gingerly". She asked the class what that word means, to which one student mutters under his breath "...that's how Eric does things."

Eric had red hair.

I had to try very hard not to laugh, because it was so clever. It was also way over the teacher's head, because she didn't miss a beat. This made suppressing my laughter even more difficult.
(juliajuliajulia, Sun 20 Apr 2008, 23:59, Reply)

Summer Camp and After School Counselor
These have been my favorite crappy part-time jobs of my little life so far. Kids are awesome and I live vicariously through them. I've also learned that I'm just as much of a sore sport in 4 square as my 10-year-old opponents.

Anyway:

During my first year as a camp counselor, I had an entertaining kid named TJ. He was 8-years-old, had a really high-pitched squeak of a voice, and was probably afflicted with Asperger's, come to think of it. I have many a story about him, but this one always comes to mind first:

One day TJ asked me what my favorite animal was, to which I answered "Llama". TJ was duly enthusiastic about this admission and proceeded to tell me about a "Llama farm" that he owned. He said this farm had 10,000 llamas and, if I wanted, I could buy some from him.

Little TJ sure knew how to strike a bargain because he said he would sell me 2 llamas for a dollar each, or 100 llamas for just a penny.

I told him I was not looking to buy in bulk, so perhaps 2 llamas would suffice.

Some interesting facts that TJ taught me about our llama friends:

1) Llama's make milk which can be turned into cheese.
2) Llama cheese tastes like cake.
3) Llama cheese, which tastes like cake, has a lot of protein.

Looking back, I have no doubt that TJ had Asperger's.



Some other stories include, but are not limited to:

The time a kid pooped his pants out in the woods. He was probably also a little mentally off, since the shit fell out of his shorts and he did nothing more than give a little shake and continue to walk nonchalantly.

The time we took a field trip to the ocean and there was an abundance of weird water bugs in the tide pools. The kids collected them to the point where they had puddles completely filled with the little red bugs. They dubbed the creatures "Ching Ching Chongs" - which may or may not be racist.

The time a girl fell in the woods. I heard the screams, saw her come up to me crying and asked her what happened. I didn't see blood. She continued to cry in hysterics. Then...I saw her arm and the elbow was at a completely wrong angle, sticking out. The walk back to the main building was nerve wracking. I couldn't pick her up, because I didn't want to accidentally touch the bad arm and make it worse. All I could do was guide her very slowly around the roots and rocks.


I currently work at an after school program. I don't have too many stories, aside from two which circulate around a girl who lacks common sense, yet compensates in utter endearing-ness.

The kids are supposed to address us with "Mr. and Miss" - so I'm Miss Julia. Three weeks ago, the girl in question sparks up a brilliant conversation:

"Miss Julia, what's your first name?"
- "...Julia..."
"Oooooooh...I thought that was your last name!"
- "What did you think Mr. Chris and Miss Stephanie's last names were?"
"...Chris...and Stephanie?"

Another time, we took a field trip to go swimming at a pool in a health club. As we were getting ready to leave, the girl in question comes up in tears. I go all mushy and start asking her what was wrong. It takes her a minute, but she finally sighs and whispers that her "peepee" hurts.

I go awkward and say "Your what?!" She repeats. I question again: "Wait...one more time?" This cycle continues a few more times - because I a) did not know how to advise a 9-year-old girl about an apparently painful "peepee" and b) did not want to give advice about her vag when she's really saying that her knee hurts. Sometimes I'm hard of hearing, and I really think that could have been a logical mistake. Thus I made this girl repeat her woe like 5 times.

Then I told her to go to the bathroom and "rinse off", because it was probably from the chlorine. She does, comes back, and claims that it still stings - even when she bends down!
Good god.
(juliajuliajulia, Sun 20 Apr 2008, 23:50, 1 reply)

I was so ugly...
I was so ugly when i was born, the doctor slapped my mother.
(tuqueboy has been in a medically -induced coma since, Sun 20 Apr 2008, 23:08, Reply)

Not my kid, actually not even a kid..
Quite off topic this one, but i guess it will fit.

A mate of mine who isnt the brightest kid ever but still dosnt have any disability or anything (except for a bit of a lisp) once said, out loud, in a group of us, at school. "Your sisters got manboobs!"

That was the funniest thing I heard in year 7

Cheers
(Brian? Wants to create a Myfacespacebebobook on, Sun 20 Apr 2008, 23:00, Reply)

hide and seek masterclass
Apparently when i was two, perhaps a bit younger, my dad was playing hide and seek with me. He came crawling round the corner on his hands and knees chasing me...and i twatted him over the head with a rolling pin. How he must have laughed. I have no idea how i managed to get my little mitts on a rolling pin that was kept in a high cupboard. I must have been an imaginative little f*cker. Dont suppose he credited me with imaginative part at the time in question. Its his fault for letting me watch Tom and Jerry.
(i dont get it tell them a badger got me, Sun 20 Apr 2008, 22:14, 2 replies)

My next door neighbours...
Have two boys and a baby girl. The boys are four and six years old, the older being a cheeky little chappy and the younger being a whiney but maddeningly clever mini-person.

We have a lattice fence between our gardens, so the boys can see us and play with us. However, soon after installing it, 3 years ago, the older figured out how to scale it. From then on it was a regular occurrence to hear "Josh, get down from the fence!".

Anyway, about a year after the fence was installed I was talking to Mr. Neighbour, and Josh was, once again, climbing the fence. He slipped and fell, only a little way, and said "oh, fucking hell!" His father simply responded: "Josh, don't say that please, it's not very nice."

And we never spoke of it again.
(notjustahatrack peeling a sausage..., Sun 20 Apr 2008, 21:41, Reply)

Not ankle biters any more
But today, my youngest thanked me when I took her toast plate from her whilst ensconced watching tv. She said "Thank you" in a very faux posh voice, which I look at her twice for, and asked her what she said, as it sounded like she was saying something very rude to me. She said "No, dad, I said thank you" To which the eldest pipes up "I thought it sounded just like "Fuck you" as well".
Parenting doesn't get any better than this.
( Duke Of Belmsford has got 99 records, but Jay-Z ain't one, Sun 20 Apr 2008, 21:28, Reply)

My 4 yr old daughter..
picks up on anything I say or do. As kids do might I add.
I'm one of these drivers that complains, curses, swears and gestures whenever another driver has done something I dissaprove of. Not to the point of wanting to get out of my car and batter the offending motorist but you get my drift.
Well on this occasion after I had just been cut up by some fucking tosser in a BMW (the usual) I was shaking my head in frustration when little G pipes up "Was that another fucking wanker, Dad?"

That took some explaining, I could hardly give her a bollocking for it, could I.
(Mr G to you , Fathead, Sun 20 Apr 2008, 21:00, 1 reply)

Golf ball
My friend was reading his two year old sprog the Princess and The Pea. So of course when she went to bed she wanted a pea under her mattress to see if she was a princess. Her poor father was woken up in the wee hours of the morning by her bawling when she discovered she couldn't feel the pea.

So being a devoted da, he palmed a golf ball and shoved it under the top sheet of her bed. She slept happily curled up on top of it the whole night.
(TheWonderfulWombat It came to me in a dream., Sun 20 Apr 2008, 20:27, 1 reply)

Work Experience...
I did mine in the 'foundation stage' of a primary school, ages 3-5. You can predict how that was, drawing pictures with the kids, unblocking the sink when they tipped sand down it, spending lunchtimes building towers with those little multicoloured blocks they used for maths, whatever they were called, etc. I quickly discovered that my future did not lie in teaching.
So it was a relief when one morning I was told we'd be watching a video. I parked my arse on a ridiculously tiny chair behind the class and we all watched Words And Pictures, to teach them about the 'ah' sound.
Once that had finished, the real teacher told the class to come up with 10 words with the 'ah' sound in the middle. The usual cat, bat, mat, came up. One smart-arse came out with 'tractor'.
"That's nine, can anyone come up with a tenth?" Silence, they'd run out of three-letter words. Until a tiny hand shoots up.
"CRAP!"

I had to excuse myself to go and laugh myself silly in the tiny toilets.
(and now for someone completely different, Sun 20 Apr 2008, 19:46, Reply)

One of the bands I play in has just got a new drummer...
...but until we found her we were using a drum machine.

One day, the bass player's friend told him that her son played the drums and he'd be interested in jamming with us, so we gave him some songs to learn and arranged to get together. He was great, far better than a lot of drummers I've had the "pleasure" of playing with before - he stayed in time, could improvise, and was really loud.

And he was 12. He's going onto great things, I'm telling you.
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Sun 20 Apr 2008, 19:41, 2 replies)

Pea-Roast alert...
My ex-wife's nephew has learning disabilities (or, in the words of his mum and dad, "He's a spaz").

If anyone falls asleep in his presence he walks up to them, pauses for a moment and then shouts "Wake up Jeff!" at the top of his little lungs, which apparently is something he's learnt from The Wiggles.

So anyway, a few years ago, we took him to see Narnia, and at the point where Aslan died, the camera pans back to reveal the prone lion on the stone plinth, the cinema's all quiet apart from the dramatic music, and then it happens...

"WAKE UP JEFF!" at top volume. How we laughed, much to his consternation.
(Professor Kenny Martin Hmm? What?, Sun 20 Apr 2008, 19:37, Reply)

Well...
Apparently when i was a lot younger(must have been around 3 or 4 i would have thought). I would get up at the crack of dawn, put on my mums thigh high leather boots, which would engulf my whole legs, and nothing else. I would then proceed to parade up and down the front gardens of my street until i was brought back in...
I'd like to totally deny this but my brother (20 years my senior...) does have incriminating pictures of me at about the same age in my mums tights, I'm sure he could get arrested for them these days.
Can't say i've got much better with age :/
(jangaaaal shes lost control..., Sun 20 Apr 2008, 19:21, Reply)

Etiquette lessons
A discussion with my younger stepdaughter, about how grownups use euphemisms to avoid swearing. I play the part of the Dad in this story, while the other parts are played by my wife and our degenerate brood.


Mum: "Grandad D says 'sh....ugarplumfairies', doesn't he?

Dad: Of course, he means another word beginning with 'sh...'

Elder Sister (age 8): "Yes, he means 'sh...'

Mum + Dad: "THANK YOU, WE KNOW YOU KNOW"

Dad: "Yes, he means 'Sh...anghai', doesn't he?"

Elder Sister: "No..."

Dad: "Oh, you mean it's 'Sh...alimar', then?"

Elder Sister: "No..."

Young Cherubic Moppet (age 4): "Sugarplumfucker!"
(songster69, Sun 20 Apr 2008, 19:15, 2 replies)

Adolf Hitler
Kite Jr is now 8. For their end of term homework they had to do a project on WW2. Now that is pretty much my "thing" but I was determined not to push her (she wasn't really interested in it as a subject) so we talked about general things - the countries involved, their flags, who the leaders were, the main events etc. Whilst discussing Hitler, I asked her:
K "Do you know what happened to Hitler?"
KJr "No"
K "He shot himself"
KJr "Why? Was he a bad shot?"

How I laughed.
(kitescreech still here, Sun 20 Apr 2008, 19:03, 2 replies)

How to catch a Daddy
Songster69 junior recently discovered the joys of hiding. He's played peek-a-boo for years, but now he's learnt how to run upstairs and hide in his sisters' cupboards. Proper hide-and-seek will surely follow as soon as he learns not to giggle whenever we call his name. However, along with learning to hide comes the whole "logic" thing. That is, if he can't see Mummy, or can't see me, then we must be hiding. So whenever I go to work he spends 10 minutes or so disconsolately searching cupboards.

Recently he added another tool to his armory. He knows from his Cinderella DVD what to do if there's a mouse hiding in a hole - wave their favourite food outside and they'll come out to get it. Which is why, last Monday, Mrs songster69 found him heading upstairs yelling for me and waving a can of lager.

In my defence, he knows he's not allowed it and I am, therefore it must be my special favourite.
(songster69, Sun 20 Apr 2008, 19:03, 3 replies)

Kids on wheels
Whether it be a skateboard or those blasted shoes with wheels in the heel, i always get the maddening urge to knock the mobile blighters down, particularly since the former are largely wankers and the latter more often than not crash into you.

Kids on bikes are occasionally irritating too, as they often expect you, the pedestrian, to get out of their way. Fuck you, I'm walking here, you go around.
(Impuritan, Sun 20 Apr 2008, 18:48, 4 replies)

This sounds like an Apeloverage post, but it's true.
When I was a young child, I got hold of my mum's stick deodorant and ate a big chunk of it, presumably thinking it was a tasty white chocolate treat.

Understandably worried, my mother took me to the family doctor who tried to put her mind at ease;

"He'll be fine, but he might have a bit of a dry mouth for a while."
(Generator cannot be named for legal reasons, Sun 20 Apr 2008, 18:31, 2 replies)