Category: kids say the funniest

Dreams Are In There

Thing 3 has a new sleeping arrangement following a dream episode last week. He woke up screaming one night, terrified of bumble bees. He spent the remainder of that night in our bed. Which means we got even less sleep than normal with his squirming and kicking.

The next night the dreams came again, and this time he spent the remainder of the night on the floor in our room. At least we all could get a decent night sleep that way.

The next night, before bed, I had a long conversation with Thing 3 to try to ease his fears. I explained that dreams are not real, like watching TV. The way to stop a dream is to just wake up because then it’s gone. And I told him about the “magic” toys in his room that will protect him from dreams, something that worked well with Thing 2.

He wasn’t really buying it. Instead I got a barrage of questions as only Thing 3 can unleash. What are dreams? Where are they during the day? Why do dreams come when I sleep? Do you have dreams? How about animals?

The questioning went on like this for a good 10 minutes. Then he decided he couldn’t sleep in his room because dreams are hiding there, so he found a spot in the hallway just outside his doorway. He has been sleeping in this spot for a week now.

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I Am A Joke

I am a father of four, educated, with a respectable job and nice home. I should command respect and authority from my kids.

Apparently, that is not the case. SuburbanDaddy has become a source of laughter and joking at the expense of Things 1-3. Thing 4 is too young, but give her time, I’m sure she’ll join her brothers.

How do I get ridiculed by a seven, six, and especially four year old?

They make fun of my clothes: “Look at daddy’s socks! Ha ha. ” So what, I keep my dark socks on that I wore to work, when I come home and change into shorts. Changing socks would only create more laundry.

They make fun when I forget things, which is a lot these days. Lately, I can’t get their names straight. I often rattle through all three before getting the right one. “Get off your brother, Thing 2! I mean Thing 3! I mean Thing 1!” Instead of getting off, they just start laughing at me.

By far the worst abuse comes from Thing 3. He can completely crack himself up, hysterical laughter, just by saying something that is hilarious to an almost four year old.

“Daddy, you stink” will cause Thing 3 to laugh for ten minutes.

Then there is “Daddy, let me bop your coconut” which means he wants to hit me on the head with a soccer ball or golf club. Once he does, it’s very funny. Well, it is funny to him.

And there’s the latest one. We’ll be driving in the car, talking about ducks or clouds or firetrucks or whatever random thought catches his mind. Out of nowhere, Thing 3 will say:

“Hey Daddy! Daddy! ”

“Yes”

“You’re a joke”

Anatomically Correct Frosty

Take a look at this picture that Thing 3 drew over the winter. There is a hat, carrot nose, eyes, and mouth. All stuff you would expect to see. Then there are the arms and a bunch of legs. Except the line at the bottom is not a leg.

Anatomically Correct Frosty

We asked Thing 3 about his picture.

“What is this?”
Thing 3: “His hat”

“What are these?”
Thing 3: “His arms”

“And what is this?” (pointing to line at the bottom)
Thing 3: “That’s his penis”

“Frosty has a penis?”
Thing 3: “Yes, he’s a boy”

I guess I never thought about it.