Tag Archives: funny kid moments

the please stop making videos kerfluffle

It started like this.  Years ago I used to forget to put the new toilet paper on the roll.  You know, you get in a hurry, you just balance the new roll on the empty cardboard thingy and go on with your life.  Maybe you get it next time, whatever.  Apparently this laze-faire attitude towards TP replacement *cough* annoyed my husband.  Actually, he wasn’t even my husband back then, just by guy, my main squeeze, my live-in-dude-who-wanted-the-toilet-paper-just-so-nazi.  Anyway, he used to complain about it, a little bit, a lot, and gradually I realized that I had shifted from “occasionally forgetting” and “putting it off to later” to “actively not doing it in stubborn revenge against the last time when Paul gave me yet another lecture on proper toilet paper management.”  As in, “there is no way in hell I will ever, EVER, put a new toilet paper on the roll.  EVER.  I’m just saying.”  Ahem.

I’m childish like that.

Paul’s response to this lack of TP cooperation was to escalate the outrage.  Only now it morphed into a rather mocking version of the previously fairly serious complaint.  Things got ugly.  Until one day, said escalation culminated with what we now call “The Video.”

That’s right, Paul, with Luc’s help, made a “how to” video for me on replacing the TP.  Luc was camera crew (he ran the ipad) while Paul helpfully demonstrated the entire technique, along with commentary like, “you turn the roll this way, this, not that, don’t worry, I know it it’s confusing for beginners, it’s a common mistake, but with practice…”

Oh lord.

Cue the onslaught of family-made videos.  How to pick your underwear up off the floor.  How to put your shoes back in the shoe bin.  How to hang a wet towel after using it.  How to properly screw the lid back on the peanut butter.  Paul, me, the kids, everyone got in on it, all of us voicing our opinions using Daily Show-style fake how-to helpfulness.  Ah, the condescension!  Oh, the patronizing head patting!  Back-handed insults cloaked as helpful hints!  Seething annoyance gilded in golden smiles and “ha ha isn’t this funny-ness”!  “Don’t worry, everyone makes that mistake at first….”

Would the fake-how-to madness never end?

Maybe.  Because today Luc filmed the ultimate “helpful video,” with Sophie as camera crew (giggling in the background).  Luc faces the camera and proceeds to boldly give this meta-video message: “This is a video explaining how it is not nice to make videos about how other people do things.  It’s rude.  This is Luc, signing off.  Good-bye.”

HAHAHAHA!!!  He really said this!

The irony of the video was absolutely the message, as the kids explained to me repeatedly amidst fits of giggles.  “See, we’re making a video about how it’s bad to make videos!  Get it? Get it?”

I get it.

Then they left it out for Paul to find.  I’m surprised he didn’t sprain his face with all the eye-rolling.

It’s the ipad version of “this is not a pen.”

What can possibly be next?  Videos on being polite and kind?  Personality improvement videos?  Or maybe it will come all the way around and people will start making videos on how to be an obnoxious ass?  Irony gone so far it’s straight again?

I’ll leave you with another version of this story, “Please Stop!” from the amazing and fabulous Allie at Hyperbole and a Half.  Hilarious and dark and wonderful.  I adore this blog so much.  I’m very sad that she hasn’t been updating for a while.  I hope she’s all right.  Totally go read “Please Stop!” if you haven’t already.  And while you’re at it, read “God of Cake” too, because it is awesome.

lawrence, the cookie ninja writing coach

We go to the toy store pretty regularly on Luc-Choose days. He loves that toy store.  So last week, wandering around the toys, waiting for the kids to uncover today’s treasures, I found myself carrying around a little stuffed, um, bat?, creature, thingy.  He was cute and I was bored and I ended up talking to it and having it talk back to me in a funny voice.  The kids thought this was hilarious.  I wouldn’t buy it for myself—I’m a grown-up, for heaven’s sake!—so they bought it for me.

Turns out his name is Lawrence.  And he is a cookie ninja.

“Give me all your cookies!”

Seems all he eats is cookies, he hoards them in fact, flying around at night to raiding any cookie stashes we might have.  Here is Lawrence, pondering the height of our fridge, and the container of cookies that lives up there, next to the raisin bran and honey O’s.


But cookie raids are not, it turns out, Lawrence’s only job.  His other job is to kick me in my writerly butt.  “Have you done your 1000 words today?” he says, swooping in to land on my shoulder and nip at my ear.  “Those words you wrote yesterday were crap!  Write better words today!” he adds, before flying off again.

I’m serious!  He said this to me yesterday!

Okay, maybe it’s the kids, swooping him over, speaking his words in little high, screechy bat-tones.  But so far, Lawrence is always right.

Honestly, I had no idea the kids have been paying any attention when I speak of writing, or of my 1000 words, or of how well, or disastrously, a given day’s work had gone.  But they are.  And they’re offering their support of this mysterious thing I do via a small black bat.

I love how playful my kids are!  I love that they bought me this bat with their own money, to give to me, and then gave it a name, a personality, and a roll in our family, not to mentioned illustrated some of his adventures.  How cool is that?

I don’t know about Lawrence, though.  He’s a bit of an addict.  I found him this morning in a tableau set up for my discovery, flat on his back, covered in cookie crumbs, one half cookie still dangling near his mouth.  He said he didn’t remember a thing.  Cookie black-out.

Nearby, Sophie and Luc were giggling.

But he merely staggered to his feet, refusing to admit to anything.  “Do your 1000 words, lazy bones!” he screeched before flying, crookedly, away.  Trailing crumbs.

“There are mine!  Mine!  You can’t have any!”

He’s like my evil alter-ego.  Right now he’s perched on the window ledge above my computer in the writing room, preening and scolding.  “Get to work, quit blogging and get your 1000 words.”

See?  I needed this guy!  I had no idea.  My kids know me so well. 

a day in the life of one little boy

At breakfast, there were hard negotiations.  Luc, 5, looks at me, shrewd blue eyes pretending loving innocence, and says, “Mommy, I’ll give you a kiss if you give me a cookie.  Ginger snaps.  One kiss per snap.”  It’s an offer I can’t refuse.

Later, mid-morning, I find him dancing in the bathhouse wearing one black sock.  “Look, Mom, I’m Luc-ael Jackson!” [does dance moves from Thriller].  Me: snorting coffee through my nose.

After lunch at the Sushi-Go-Round (his favorite), he insists on bringing home his water cup, lid and straw intact.  Turns out he has dissolved a lump of wasabi in it, with the plan to give it to Paul.  “I think it might melt his brain.  Will that be funny?”  Um, yes?

Post-lunch, at the grocery store, I return from selecting cheese to find him in the cart, red-faced and coughing.  “Are you okay?  What’s going on?” I say.  Luc, still sputtering a bit, says, “Oh, I was just testing if I could choke myself.  See?” And he wraps his little hands around his throat and squeezes.  Me: “Arrgh!  Stop that!”

Crossing the parking lot, he shrieks, “Stop!  Wait—!” and I jump, startled.  “What?”  He points at the ground where the asphalt has changed color.  Total seriousness: “It’s lava.” Me: Oh for heaven’s sake.

Later, after we get home, I get mad at Sophie for teasing the dog, who has just been, um, improved, and is pretty unhappy about it.  Sophie stomps off.  “Mom,” says Luc, “I don’t think she should have done that but don’t you think you were a little too hard on her?”  God, he’s so right…

In the afternoon I went to download a bunch of pictures off the camera and found long series on…well, there were about a dozen pictures of dog poop.  That’s right, dog poop.  There might have been some cat poop photos, too.  I didn’t look that closely.  It was…scientific.  In retrospect, I’m pretty sure he was working on this a couple of days ago.  I remember a lot of giggling.

Day’s end, lying down with him while he falls asleep, me nearly drifting off myself…ahhh…suddenly, apropos of nothing I know of, this little voice in the darkness says, “You know what I would really like to know?”  “What?” says I.  “I would really like to know what Medusa looked like before she got the snakes.  I think she must have been very beautiful.”


Oh, and going to bed myself I found a half-dozen glow-in-the-dark spiders on my pillow.  Har.

This is just a small sample.

four lucisms, and a good one from paul

Paul started getting annoyed the other night at Luc who kept changing his mind about what he wanted to eat.  Finally Paul said, “Get over here and eat this or I’m going to whup you.”

Luc, with zero hesitation, growled back, “BRING IT ON.”  Little five year old guy with cherub cheeks and long blond hair, hands in fists, stomping towards his father with a ferocious, thrilled, look in his eyes.  Fearless.  I fell off my chair laughing.

You want a piece of me?

Then, later in the week, we’re getting ready to go to the dentist, and I, scattered as usual, am calling out instructions, searching for my glasses, my wallet, snack supplies, etc., while Luc plays legos in the middle of the floor, oblivious.  Finally I say, “Luc, we’re getting in the car to go the dentist.  I need you to come now!”

He answers in this friendly voice, “Okay, Mom, I’ve just got to get my battle-ax.”  And, indeed, he came out of the yurt with his battle-ax and a smile.  What exactly do you need a battle-ax for at the dentist, I’m not sure, but it seemed self-evident to him that it was a necessary item.

Speaking of legos, a new batch came in from the thrift store the other day—when you get legos from the thrift store, you never know what special pieces might be in there. In this case, it was a lego Dora.  I found him hitting Dora with a lego hammer.  “How’s it going there?” I asked.  “Oh, we’re going to build a cage to put her in, torture her, and then dip her in lava,” he said.  Sounded pretty happy about it, too.  He looks so cute, and then he says something like that.  Normal little boy?  Or budding psychopath?

Only time will tell.

Look at my muscles, Mom!

And finally, one from Paul, best comment I got all week about turning 40.  I was trying on my skinny jeans, looking in the mirror, thinking of how these jeans looked ten years ago, yes I had them ten years ago, and I asked that killer question, “What do you think?  Too much muffin top?”

To which Paul replied, “I’ve always thought the top was the best part of the muffin.”

Aw, thanks honey.


I’m having a string of funny kid posts at the moment.  Enjoy, because next is probably a string of depressed writer posts, or how-to farm posts, and they are not nearly as amusing.  Of course, if I’m doing the farming, it can get pretty ridiculous pretty quickly.  But that’s another story.

Anyway, Luc, who recently turned 5, keeps saying cool, funny, surprising stuff today.  Over breakfast, I started writing a few of them down, because the stream flows by so quickly and my memory is so poor—I’m going to miss this stuff when he grows up and moves out (sob!).

A few samples:

Creative name calling: “You’re just a jello marshmallow stupidhead!”

Observations: “I think I know why you do corpse pose in yoga.  If you do yoga your whole life, then you die at the end, and you always do corpse pose at the end, so that’s when you die and that’s why you do corpse pose.”

Moves: When playing with our dog Henry, “Watch out, here comes an Ultimate T-Rex Puppy Smash!”

Connections made: Sophie, inventing a monster, says, “These monsters hunt on their own and have no families.”  Luc, interested, says, “So they have no belly buttons?”

Think about it.

Eating: “My scrambled eggs stomach is full. But my oatmeal cookie stomach is empty.”

Statistics: “The Meat Ball of Terror is the scariest monster, but the Sun-Eating Monster is bigger than everyone except Baby Poop Head, who has the most powers.”

Questions:  “Can I glue this to my face?”

Really, I could walk around taking down Lucisms all day, there are no shortage of them, but I have to go do the dishes.

and now for a little silliness

Just overheard!  Hot off the game play!

Luc: Okay, let’s pretend we just got married.

Sophie: Okay.  You kiss me.

Luc: Okay. [kiss]

Sophie: Now what do we do?

Luc: We just had all that Get Married Cake, so we ate all the cake and now we’re tired so we’re going to go to bed.

Sophie:  Okay. [stretches out on the floor.  Luc gets down beside her.]

Luc:  Now you say, “You’re snoring too loud.”

Sophie: You’re snoring too loud.

Luc: [zzzz  zzzz zzzz]

Sophie: I’m dreaming.

Luc: What are you dreaming.

Sophie.  I’m dreaming I’m in jail.

Luc: What are you in jail for?

Sophie:  I don’t know, maybe snoring.

Me: [cracking the fuck up]

Is this what they think marriage is?  Is this a peek into how they see MY marriage?  Surely there is more to marriage than kissing, cake, snoring and jail?  Surely.

[Stop calling me Shirley.]

guy’s got a sense of humor


It’s morning, we’re first waking up, and Luc looks up at me with a gasp.  “Mom!” he says in this sweet, surprised voice.  “I just remembered my dream!”

I am instantly intrigued.  “What was it?”

“Chicken butt!”  Peels of giggles.

What?  You don’t know about Chicken Butt?  It’s a kid joke.  Basically, you say, “Hey, guess what?”  And the hapless victim your target says, of course, “What?”  And you say, “Chicken butt.”

That’s the whole joke.

Anyway.  Since Luc has learned the ways of Chicken Butt, I have been Chicken Butted daily, multiple times, until I now refuse to say, “What?” about anything.  This probably makes my day-to-day conversation sound slightly odd—you’d be surprised how many times you normally say ‘What?’ in a day—but that’s the price we pay around here for introducing small boys to jokes involving the word butt.

Luc is having to get sneakier.  Thus the “I just remembered my dream!” ploy.

“Got you, Mommy!”

Time to sit on my son and flatten him like a pancake.


Later, I scoop Luc up and start kissing him and rasberrying his tummy.  This is something I am wont to do because I am acutely aware that, one day in the not so distant future, Luc will be a big, hairy man, much taller than I, and I will look back fondly on his wriggly, adorable, little boy self and want to rasberry him, but I won’t be allowed to any more, sob!, so I do it now, a lot, to make up for my future deprivation.

“MOM!” he says, in a calm-assertive dog-trainer voice.  “SETTLE.”

This from an episode of ‘It’s Me or the Dog’ recently viewed.  The dogs in that show kept jumping on the people, licking and nuzzling, and okay, it was pretty much exactly what I was doing to Luc.  Victoria, the  dog-trainer, had the dogs SETTLE on a mat.  And, apparently, that’s what I was supposed to do, too.

I settled, looking soulfully at him, just like the dogs.

“Click.”  He says, and he kisses my cheek.  “Good Mommy.”  And off he goes.


The kids and I are trying to get out the door for something, I don’t remember what, probably the dentist because we actually had to be somewhere On Time.  (Of course, once there, we had to wait 45 minutes. This is so unfair.)  I am running around, trying to get three of us ready, Sophie find your shoes, Luc have you peed? Where are my glasses, I can only find one of my shoes, Sophie brush your hair, Luc you still haven’t peed yet, have you?  Where is my wallet? Etc.  In the middle of the chaos, Luc starts saying, in this calm, sweet voice, “Mom, I have to tell you something.”

But I’ve got a hundred details I’m trying to remember and I’m all hold on, and just a minute.

“Mom, I really have to tell you something.”

“Okay, hang on, I’m almost ready–”

“Mom, there’s something I really need to tell you.”

“Okay, okay—”

“Mom, I really, really have to tell you something.”

Finally I stop my spinning.  “Okay Luc, tell me what is it.”  And I’m fully expecting yet another Chicken Butt.

But he looks right at me with his adorable, little boy face and yells, “MOM, I’M ON FIRE!”

If I’d been drinking milk I would have squirted it out my nose.

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen!  He’ll be here all week.

the flavor of a rainwalk

Sophie and I went on a rainwalk in the woods this morning.  Not heavy rain, just some gentle split splat, falling through the leaves.  We babbled along for a while, but the cool air and the quiet woods did their work on us.  Soon we were walking along in silence, looking around, maybe pointing at something of interest every now and again.

After a while of running ahead and doubling back, Sophie started a game of touching her tongue to the tip of various leaves, to catch the rainwater that pools there, just before it falls.  Half-kidding, I asked her if the taste changed on different trees.

“Oh, yes,” she said, immediately.  “Oak trees are strong.  Spice bushes are minty.  Don’t do beech, they’re fuzzy.”

Wow.  “Do you have a favorite?”

She thought about it.  “Sycamore.  They taste clean.”

The varying  taste of rainwater drunk from assorted leaf cups seems like profound information to have at your fingertips.

A minute later I saw her making a face and scrubbing at her tongue with her palm.  “Bad tasting tree?” I asked.

“No.”  She spat.  “Spiderweb.”

I’m glad she has the time to gather this knowledge!

overheard conversation

Luc (4): I think I’ve figured out why we have two buns.  We have two legs, and the legs go all the way up, so there is one bun per leg.

Sopihe (6): It would be really funny if there was someone who had four buns.

Luc: I think I saw someone like that on Star Wars.

Sophie: He had four buns?  And two bums?

Luc: Do you know what happens if you swallow bubblegum?

Sophie: What?

Luc: When you poot, a pink bubble comes out.

Sophie: [laughing so suddenly she falls off the couch]

Luc:  What? Was that funny?