Kid Quotes

“Kids say the darndest things.” Indeed, they do! Every once in awhile, their interesting ideas are worth sharing. Dated when one is available.


AJ: I love you, mom. *farts*
Me: What the…
AJ: That means ‘good night’ in butt language.

…. 7-year-old boys…


Evie’s accent is adorable, but occasionally confusing. Last night, she and AJ were having a disagreement. “I waede a gowwage,” she would tell AJ.
“You need a garage?”
“You don’t need a garage.”
So, I had to offer my guess, “You went to college?”
By now, she was upset. “No, Mama! I waaaaaedeh a gowaaaache!” She held up a piece of paper with googly eyes and scraps of fluff stuck to it, and I finally figured out what she was saying. “Oh! You made a collage!”
“/Yes/,” she heaved a great sigh at me and rolled her eyes, then said, “Can we put it on the fwidge?”


Olin: Can we watch model trains?
Me: No, you can watch what I’m watching.
Olin (crying): That’s too scary!
…. I’m watching Downton Abbey…


Dad: I hate being human.
Mom: I know, being a grown-up sucks.
Olin: Why don’t you be gingerbread?


Quotes from today:
Trying to explain cable TV to Evangeline, “It’s like Netflix on the TV, except you don’t get to pick what you watch.”
Evie says, “Why would you do that?”

Practicing spelling words before supper with AJ, and Olin asks for one:
“How do you spell ‘listen’?”
Olin says, “That’s not a word!”

That explains a lot.


AJ: You know, I’ve seen jerks, and I’ve seen dorks, but you’re a real… Jerkdork!



Olin is frustrated because his attempts to “magic” his garbage truck into candy bars are not working. “Magic doesn’t work! Rrrrrgh!”


Evie, to her bear: Oh, you’re so kitschy!
Me: What does kitschy mean, Evie?
Evie: Kitschy means you ride a bus. Also, you are a kitty.


AJ, getting frustrated by his siblings: Okay! That’s it. I’m going to write down all of your names of who is harassing me. Sera, you’re first. And Evie. Evie is anNOYing. And Olin. How do you spell Olin? This is my list of who to yell at later.


AJ: Bugs are the smallest items on the planet.

Mama: Actually, sub-atomic particles are the smallest.

AJ: Yeah. Because they’re made of bugs.


AJ: Ew! Mom, Seraphine’s eating her snot with a spatula!


A conversation I overheard while we were driving to Prairie…

“I could pull my head off,” suggested Olin.

“We could take you to the hos-a-pill and they could put it back on,” AJ replied.

“Yeah, they can put it back on,” agreed Olin.

“No, Olin, if you pulled your head off, the hospital could not put it back on. You’d die.” Mama felt obligated to correct.

“Do you want to die, Olin?” AJ wondered.

“I want to see Grandpa Greg,” corrected Olin.

“The way to see Grandpa Greg is to die,” AJ asserted.

“You could pull my head off, then I could see Grandpa Greg,” Olin replied.

“We can’t do that coz then the cops would get us and we would go to jail,” AJ ended the conversation definitively.


Evie, perched on a kitchen chair, sans diaper: “Look at my pretty butt! Look at my pretty butt!”

It has begun.


Evangeline has found one of Tim’s ear plugs from work (like, a bright green, squishy bullet-shaped foam thingie) and is carrying it around, ‘taking care’ of it. She left it on the table when she came to get some crackers, and came running back to retrieve it a few moments later, yelling, “My baby! My baby!”


Entirely too early this morning: “Hey? Mom? What’s a tax write-off?” Apparently, someone was listening to Mama and Daddy’s conversation, yesterday…


Was upstairs, trying to coax #1 out of the bath tub and keep #3 out long enough to refresh the water, when I hear a supersonic scream from #2, followed by hysterical crying from #4. Apparently, AJ whacked his forehead in to the counter at full force, “to see what would happen.” He was totally offended when I lol’ed.


The first thing AJ told me this morning was, very seriously, “Mom, you have to have SEVERAL birthdays to be a grownup.”


Mama: What did you say?
Olin: What did you say?
Mama: What did you say.
Olin: What did YOU say?
Mama: I said, ‘what did you say?’
Olin: Augh! WHAT DID YOU SAY?!
Mama: (laughing) Olin, I said, ‘What did you say.’
Olin: A lawn mower! A lawn mower!


This afternoon after swimming Olin found out we were headed to the park. He started bouncing up and down in his seat and doing the “Olin-style” flap dance. From the back seat, I hear AJ say, “Slow down, Olin! Slow down, slow down! If you get too excited, your brain will be COMPLETELY erased!”


AJ, reading his Veggie Tales bible this morning, “You can go swimming in a lake, but you might find a baby who is SOAKING WET!” Not the takeaway sentiment I would have remembered, but a good point nonetheless.


AJ just told me an incredibly serious story about how rocket-powered flying dump trucks pushed back the smell of chocolate so that we could all live on Earth. He was dead serious and insists that his teachers taught him this. I’m not sure whether I should marvel at his creative skills, his lying skills, or wonder about the school system.


AJ came to sit on my lap and I asked him, “How much do you love me?”
He thought about it for awhile, then said, “Sixteen.”
“Sixteen? Well, who can argue with that?” I said.
“Olin.” AJ said firmly. “He’s the Questionator. That’s what the bus driver says, because he asks a hundred million million questions.”
Indeed, he does. hehehe


“There’s something wrong with my oatmeal, Mama. When I blow on it and the wind stops, the hot air comes back. There’s something wrong. That’s ree-dic-alous.” -AJ

Sherry and I were talking about baking soda, and AJ goes running in to the kitchen, “Bacon soda?!? I never seen that before!”

“This is my flat porn truck,” says AJ, “It gots its flat porn out on the street.”
“….” says Mama, “You mean platform?”
AJ looks blank for a minute. “Oh. Yeah. Flat porn.”
“Okay, then.”

Olin takes a looong drink, sighs, and wipes his brow, “Watching you mow is hard work.”

AJ cries and hops around.
Olin: You got blood?
AJ: No, no blood. I just hurt my foot.
Olin: Oh. I call the doctor and Mama and Lancey.
Olin whips a toy cell phone out of his underwear.
Olin: Hello, doctor? AJ hurt his foot. You come right ‘way.
Olin stuffs the phone back in his underwear.
Olin: The doctor coming. Oh! I call Lancey.
Olin pulls out the phone, again.
Olin: Hello, Lancey? You at work or on a trip? HEY BE QUIET I ON THE PHONE! You go bike riding? Gotta go on the trail and take AJ to the doctor and put him in the drain. Okay.

Olin says with a dramatic sigh, “I love Grandpa Greg. He do nice things like mow the lawn.”
And the ever inquisitive, “Why you like to say ‘no’ at me? Why Mamas do dat?”

Olin: You got blood? Let me see your blood!
AJ: Okay!
Olin: Is that your blood?
AJ: Yeah.
Olin: You got some more?
AJ: Yeah.
Olin: Let me see it!
AJ: No!
Olin: Let me seeeeee it!
AJ runs away: No! No!
Olin gives chase: Let me seeeeeeee iiiittt!

Olin is doing the “Look at me!” and the “Why?” phases simultaneously, so we get exchanges like:
Olin: Look at me, Mama!
Mama: I’m looking!
Olin: Why?
Mama: Uh… Coz you asked me to.
Olin: Why?
Mama: … I don’t know.

*AJ comes down the stairs*
Mama: Were you good upstairs?
AJ: Yeah.
Mama: Did you stay out of my room?
AJ: Yeah.
Mama: If I go upstairs, will I find cookies under your bed?
AJ: *pause* Uh. Don’t go upstairs.

AJ: Can I put my crackers on you?
Mama: No. I’m your mother, not a table.
AJ: Oooohhhh…

AJ and Olin are watching Mighty Machines and I hear them say, “That’s like Grandma ‘s car! That’s like Daddy’s car!” Then I realize they’re watching the crusher in the scrapyard episode.

AJ, sitting on a pile of toys: I’m laying eggs. Monster truck eggs. See? *pulls out a couple of trucks* These are my babies.

At lunch time, Olin says, “Mama, go work on your e-mail.” “Why? So you can dip your sandwich in your milk and make a mess?” “Uh huh!” lol

AJ: Evie’s awake. You better go get her.
Mama: Why don’t you go get her?
AJ: ‘Cause I can’t reach her outta her crib.
Mama: Well, go talk to her until I get there.
AJ: Okay. I’ll sing her Twinkle Little Star. *wanders off* Evie! I’m coming!

Mama: I absolutely promise, AJ, that if you take off your shoes, no one will steal your feet.
AJ: But… Can I keep my socks on so no one takes them?

Olin woke me up at 6:30AM to tell me that there is a planter in our shed.

Olin has a ‘sweeper attachment’ (a broom on a rope) tied to his little ride-on tractor, and is ‘mowing’ the front yard. At 6:30 in the morning. teeheehee

Olin has a tendency to repeat things ad nauseum. The other day, he was singing “Jingle Bells” (and that meas just those two words, not eve the whole song) in preschool and driving one of his teachers nuts. She threatened to put him in the garbage, which he tested, and got carried to the garbage can. Now, “Jingle Bells” is the funniest joke ever.

AJ: What is that?
Lancey: Angel food cake.
AJ: What does it taste like?
Lancey: It tastes like angels.

Told AJ he has a brain inside his head that makes him smart. He got mad, and said, “No! I don’t! That doesn’t make sense!” and stomped away…

“Have you seen a poop super hero? That would be silly. But… … I’m a poop hero!” -AJ

Mama: *sings* I am a pirate king! Ha ha for the pirate king! And it is, it is a glorious thing to be a pirate king!
AJ: You’re not a pirate king, Mama.
Mama: I’m not?
AJ: *serious headshake* No. Maybe next time.

Mama: If you watch too much TV, your eyes will hurt.
AJ: No, they won’t. My eyes will be better if I watch a lot of TV and iPad.

Mama: I’m a triceratops!
AJ: I’m a pteranodon!
Mama: What kind of dinosaur are you, Olin?
Olin: Dinosaur Train!

AJ: Uh, Mom? We don’t really like your singing.
Olin: *nodding seriously* Uh huh.

Me: *playing Castleville*
AJ: No more playing games, Mama. Games are only for lobsters.

AJ’s excuse for not going potty, today… “My butt is too strong to go potty, and my pee is having lunch in my butt.” …. Oohhhkay, then.

AJ’s plan for the day: “So, the plan is… I will say, ‘Rescue robots to the rescue!’ and then you will be a helicopter, and I will be a fire truck.”

AJ: Don’t cry, you guys!
Mama: We miss our mama.
AJ: You can’t miss Mama. Don’t cry.
Mama: But, Olin wants to cry. What should we do?
AJ: Um, take him to the hospital.

Olin is running in circles in the living room, stark naked, squealing, “A bug on me! A bug on me!” I told him, “Well, flick it off…” and he said, “No! I keeping it!” and continued to dance around.

AJ: I’m hungry, Mama!
Mama: You just had a snack. You’re going to have to wait until supper.
AJ: *crying* But, I don’t agree!
Mama: You don’t agree?
AJ: *still crying* I don’t agree!

Olin’s turn for a funny… He wandered up to me this morning and showed me an enormous booger, then wandered away. I said, “Hey! Bring that here,” and got out a tissue. “No bring-it-here. Mine!” he said, and ran away. hehehe

We had to ask Olin the age-old question: “Cake or death?” “Cake!” he says, “What kind of cake? Train cake?”

I asked Olin who he voted for at school, and he said, “Robomney.” Indeed.

AJ’s quote for the day: He is snuggling in my bed, and I lie down next to him and attempt to give him a hug. “No! Get up, Mama! You have to stand up. The floor is strong for you.” o.0

Snuggling with me last night, AJ pets my hair and says, “You’re my best friend, Mama! Your hair is so pretty, and your teeth are so… Chompy!”

One child is chasing the other through the house, wielding a helicopter, screaming, “Stop, Olin, stop! You need to be rescued! Stoooop!”

AJ said he hurt his head, and I asked him if we should chop it off… His response: “Yeah… Where’s the scissors?”

AJ is running his ambulance in to his school bus, “Woo, crash!” and then scolding it, shaking a finger, “You leave him alone!”

AJ must have an ear infection – he’s so dizzy, this morning, he can’t even sit up straight. “Mama, What happened to the house? Gotta fix it!” he says.

AJ called me a “meanie no-no Mama” tonight, because I wouldn’t let him have a cookie, cereal bar, banana, chips, or anything else he asked for.

AJ likes the sound of his own voice. I have to admit, we sort of encourage it. He goes in the kitchen and says, “More bana? More bana? More bana? More bana? More bana? More bana?” … And we follow him in, and say, “You want some more banana?” …… Here’s your sign.

My 1 1/2-year-old is dancing around the living room, beat-boxing ‘pickle’. “Pick-a-picka-pickle! Wika-picka-wika-wickle! PICK-le!”

August 21, 2014Molly

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