Kids of Bloggers Just Don’t Have a Chance

Some of the bloggers I read and enjoy regularly, have young kids that come up with some great lines. We’re lucky that they share them with us.

Here’s just a sample of the gems from kids.

The Inner Workings

Jon interrupted and asked about all the boys in her preschool class. He was naming them off, one by one. When he got to Gavin, Juliea said “Yeah, Gavin..he’s a good choice!”. Jaidin replied “I don’t like boys who are 4, I like older boys”. Then Juliea looks Jaidin right in the eye and says sternly, “Jaidin, you’ll date who your daddy says you’ll date!

Head Rambles

Our K8 has a stupid dog called Wouldya. When I say ’stupid’, he is is a league of his own. But I won’t go into that here.

K8 was trying to teach Wouldya some simple commands, and Puppychild was watching.

“Lie down!” says K8. Wouldya just stood there. Puppychild lay down.

“Roll over!” says K8. Wouldya just stood there. Puppychild rolled over.

“Speak!” says K8. Wouldya just stood there. Puppychild said “Woof”.

“Play dead!” says K8. Wouldya just stood there. Puppychild lay flat on the ground.

So now you know why I call her ‘Puppychild’.

Ken Jennings

Dylan: “Mom, if I pee standing up but I poop sitting down, and you pee sitting down, does that mean that you poop standing up?”

Dylan, in the car the other day: “Yowch!!!” Me: “What happened, guy?” Dylan: “I bit my tooth!” That takes some doing.

Dylan loves to read, and, at the same time, is sometimes too impatient to read. He wants all words to be “sight words.” Maybe it’s all the lead paint from those Thomas the Tank Engine trains he likes.

Why do Daddy’s pants say, ‘Cave Ken Jennings’?” he asked Mindy last week when we were at a Dodgers game.

“That says ‘Calvin Klein Jeans,’” she had to tell him.

Redneck Diva


“Ya know, in the last few weeks I have really seen some cool things in my life that I just know God has had a hand in.”

“Oh really? Well, like what?” I was expecting some story about a personal experience or a growth in her faith or something like that.

She picked up her water bottle and the box of Propel packets and said, “Like this. I mean, God just helped me to pick out the perfect size bottle of water.”

And I just nodded and said, “Isn’t God just awesome?”

“You betcha.” And she went back to her homework and I walked into the living room to laugh at my precious daughter that isn’t quite as annoying as she was a few weeks ago.


Abby: Mom, what does “happy go lucky” mean?

Me: (without looking up from the laptop, but making very happy go lucky hand gestures) “Ooh I’m so happy. La la la. I’m lucky and I don’t care about anything.

Kady: That means she doesn’t care about your question. She only cares about her laptop.

Abby: Duh, dork. She was answering my question. Happy go lucky means you’re so happy you don’t care about anything.

Kady: Well, you gotta admit, she really loves that laptop.


“Ooh gross, don’t call it a “cooter.” There has to be a better name than that.”
“But, Bubby, that’s what I’ve always called it! I don’t know what else to call it!”
“Wellllllll……you could call it the dirty name….”
(At that point I stepped around the corner to ask him just exactly what was the dirty word for a cooter.”
His reply: “A vagina.”
“Okay, now it’s YOUR turn to get inside the sleeping bag and let me see which body part I can hit with my pirate sword.”
“I call my penis my ‘hot dog’ and my sack ‘my buns.'”
“Son, I so did not care to hear that. And what is the preoccupation with your ‘nads anyway?”
“Uhhhh….they’re cool?”

The Suburban Hippie


The family was getting dressed and ready to leave for work and day care this morning, when Julia smiled her sweetest, most angelic smile and began dancing around the bedroom floor, chanting as she danced. And what did she chant?

Toga. Toga. To-GA! To-GA! TOGA! TOGA! TOGA!


Matt, who is four years old, was using the toilet this afternoon in the master suite, and called in to the bedroom for Ben or me to come help him with the paperwork, as it were. Ben came in and left the door ajar; I listened from the bedroom.

Look, Daddy! I made four turds, he said. See? One. Two. Three. Four.


Sam and I were watching TV. After observing the interactions of a husband and wife for a short time, he said Mostly it’s the mommies who are smart and do things. The daddies mostly want to hang around and drink beer.
So young to have learned one of the basic truths of American life.

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Kids of Bloggers Just Don’t Have a Chance — 4 Comments

  1. Oh, kids do come out with the greatest stuff. I love “cooter” . . . at our house we call it a “woo-woo” or a “coochie” or a “patootie”. Every time I change Julia’s diaper, I sing a song about her cutie booty patootie . . . doubtless this will scar her for life.

  2. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been asked, “Awww Mom….are you gonna blog that?” Mostly by the almost 11 year old who thinks I am sooooooooo lame.