Out of the Mouths of Babes

March 22, 2011 stephhwilliams 10 Comments

Remember that show Kids Say the Darndest Things? Ok, me either. That is, I remember it existed but am not so sure I ever watched it.  But that’s not my point.  My point is that it’s true, the title of the show, at least.  Kids really do say some wacky but often brutally honest things that often spew out of their mouths without crossing their brains first, which I think might be the unofficial definition of “darndest.”  I mean, just the other day I was over the moon when my kids (the two oldest) said I was “fun.”  Boy Genius even went on to say I’m “awesome” (see why I call him a genius?). So that’s the brutally honest part of “darndest,” right? 😉

The sometimes refreshing and oftentimes inopportune honesty of a child is one of the things were supposed to train them up right about as parents, I suppose.  You never want to teach your kids to lie, but it’s important to teach about tactfulness, respect and timing.  I mean, just because honesty is the policy doesn’t mean you have to be rude.  And sometimes they really don’t mean things to be rude or hurtful because again they might not give the words much thought before they come roaring out of their mouths.

Like today, for instance.  The Girl, Boy Genius and I went to the local bowling alley.  The kids had gotten some coupons for free games during Spring Break from school and we thought it was as good a time as any to check out the place since we hadn’t been there before.  The three of us had a blast; we played three games and won one each (how convenient), and ate pizza for lunch.  Best part (I mean, other than the joy on my kids’ faces) is that it wasn’t expensive at all.  When we were leaving the Girl said she wished we could play all day, which prompted the following discussion on the way home:

Me: “No way I could play all day. My arm already hurts.”

The Girl: “Your arm hurts? Why?”

Me: “I guess from lugging that ball. I don’t know.”

The Girl: “My arm doesn’t hurt.”

Boy Genius: “Mine neither.”

Me: “Well, of course not. Y’all are young whippersnappers.”

Boy Genius: (snickering) “Whippersnappers.”

Me: “Like I bet y’alls’ legs didn’t hurt at all when we were climbing that trail on Saturday, huh?”

Both: “Nope.”

Me: “See. ‘Cause y’all are young and doing stuff doesn’t hurt y’all as much.”

The Girl: “So if you fall down and hurt your knee it hurts worse that if I fall down and hurt my knee?”

Me: “No, not necessarily.”

The Girl: “So if I’d been older when I cracked open my head, it would’ve hurt more?”

Me: “No. I’m pretty sure that hurts the same always.”

Me again: “I mean like your muscles hurt more when your older.  You’re young and your muscles don’t hurt as much as mine. ‘Cause you’re young whippersnappers.”

Boy Genius: (snickering again) “Whippersnappers.”

The Girl: “But if we’re doing the same thing, why do your muscles hurt more.”

Me: (a little exasperated now): “I don’t know. I guess ’cause I’m old and cranky.

The Girl: “You’re not old. You’re not old until you’re like a hundred or something.”

Boy Genius: “But you are cranky.”

The conversation then continued between the two of them in the back seat arguing whether I was crying or laughing up front.  The Girl thought for sure that Boy Genius had hurt my feelings (because she thinks that’s everyone’s standard response) but he just kept saying, “What? It’s true.”

And I suppose it is.  But I’d like to point out, for the record, that his next words of wisdom had to do with choosing to give up a foot rather than the Internet because you could buy a solid gold replacement foot on the Internet as long as you still had it.

Yeah … I don’t know where he gets this stuff either.

10 People reacted on this

  1. He’s a bright boy! Personally, I’d suggest waiting for fully cybernetic prostheses. Then you’d get the internet and a cool robo-foot. Hey, it might even have the internet on it somehow.

    The ability to check wikipedia via a screen on his robo-toenail would make high school easy mode.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.