The number one waste of oxygen on the planet is parents telling their kids things. Probably.
Something seems to get lost in translation from the moment sound leaves a parents lips to their kids’ banana-filled ears on the way to the blank slates of the perpetual-imagination machines in their little round heads.
Most kids’ ability to listen and understand is vastly exceeded by their ability to zone out or ignore.
You don’t even need to say it sometimes, it’s like they have a biological clock that flips an internal switch to hyper insane and sensitive around bedtime.
Parents can convince their kids that nocturnal fairies exchange cash for fallen-out teeth, but its nearly impossible to get them to believe the house is out of sweets.
Car navigations systems should be build with a voice-triggered estimated time of arrival when it hears a kid ask “Are we there yet?”
For a lot of little kids, there are really only two kinds of flying insects: 1) bees, 2) very probably almost definitely also a bee.
Some kids are bathwaterholics. You’d think it wasted like the nectar of the Gods.
When a kid is pooping-in-PJs terrified, trying to convince them there’s nothing to fear can be about as effective as telling an angry person they’re overreacting.
Ah! The sweetness of forbidden fruit. Gross, dirty, germ-ridden forbidden fruit. Blech!
When kids are learning the rules, they also pick up a lot of crafty loopholes.
We know it’s wrong and not an options, but that doesn’t stop our thoughts from occasionally turning to child-management uses for duct tape.
Remember that game “Opposite Day.” Yeah. F*ck that game. Little kids seem to be competing for the championship of “Opposite Decade.”
We all have our own particular eating habits. Kids have like five. As in, only five things they’ll eat.