What the vet said: Your dog is a little dirty.
What I should have said: I’ll do better.
What I actually said: You should see my kids.
Me: The house is a disaster. We all need to clean.
8-year-old: Who’s coming over?
Me: No one. We’re cleaning for us.
8: But we already know we live like this.
My 3-year-old got a cut on her finger.
She’s holding it up to show people her band-aid.
Yes, that’s my kid flipping off everyone in the grocery store.
[in someone else’s master bathroom]
5-year-old: They have two sinks.
Me: Yeah.
5: One for each hand.
Wife: *points to 2-year-old* Her shoes are on the wrong feet.
Me: That’s what happens when she puts them on herself.
Wife: I watched you dress her.
[lightning strike super close to our house]
5-year-old: Missed me.
My 2-year-old refused to brush her teeth because a towel was in the wrong spot.
I calmly explained to her that the position of the towel didn’t matter and that she needed to brush her teeth no matter what.
Just kidding.
I moved the damn towel.
I played Dungeons and Dragons with my daughters.
They were supposed to fight the wolves surrounding a town.
Instead, they fed the wolves and turned them into their friendly wolf army.
Girls, man. They’ll take over the world.
[driving]
Me: I don’t know where we are.
3-year-old: I do. We’re in the car.
5-year-old: *pretending to be a T-rex* I’m going to eat you.
7-year-old: You can’t. It’s Lent.
*stands on scale at doctor’s office*
*takes off coat*
*empties pockets*
*shaves eyebrows*
Me: School is delayed. There’s too much ice.
5-year-old: *whispering* Thanks, Elsa.
My 7-year-old asked for her first alarm clock for Christmas.
We just got it set up.
I’ve never seen someone so happy about having their life ruined forever.
3-year-old: I need a scarf.
Me: No, you don’t.
3: To tie up bad guys.
She needs a scarf.
Me: You’re not like other girls.
3-year-old: *continues looking for the right Barbie to fight her dinosaurs*