The Clean Version

Danger Monkey, age 11, buckling seat belt: “Do we have to take your car?”

Me: “What’s wrong with my car?”

DM: “It’s just really messy back here.”

Me: “And why is that?”

DM: “Well, you’re not as strict as Mom on leaving things in the car, so really it’s your fault.”

(long pause)

Me: “Soooo… I haven’t even put the car into gear yet… and you’re complaining that your area is messy… because I don’t make you clean up your mess.”

DM: “Yes, exactly.”

(long pause)

Me: “Alright, then unbuckle your seat belt.”

DM: “Yes! We’re taking Mom’s car!”

Me: “Uh… no. You’re cleaning up your mess.”

DM: “Aw, man.”

Me: “How did you think this was going to end any other way?”

Stuffed

(at dinner table)

Wonderful Wife: “You need to use your fork on the spaghetti, not your fingers. We don’t eat with our hands.”

Little Miss Thing, age 7: “Nope.”

WW: “That wasn’t a question. A better response would be, ‘Yes, Mama’.”

LMT: “No. I don’t feel like it.”

WW: (glaring)

Me: “That was strike two. If you don’t respond appropriately to your mother, there will be serious consequences.”

LMT: “Like what?”

Me: “Like… losing all your electronics for a day.”

LMT: “I don’t care.”

Me: “OK, wiseguy. How about losing electronics for a week?”

LMT: “I don’t care.”

(pause)

Me: “Hmmm. Then I guess I’ll have to take away that new stuffed animal you bought last…”

LMT: “Sorry, Mama. I won’t do it again.”

 

Run for it

Danger Monkey, age 9: “I will never do chores again in a million years!” (giggling)

Me: “(laughing) Well, then I guess it’s time for a million spankings.”

Little Miss Thing, age 6: “Quick, run for your life!” (giggling)

LMT: “No, wait… run for your BUTT!”