My kids are funny - part 1

These are some of the funny stories from when our oldest three were young.

Before baby Cassidy was born, we decided to move all three of our children into the same bedroom for a trial run.

We tucked them in and they couldn’t have been more excited, so we sat outside the door to see if they would settle in for the night. Unfortunately, Seanie was just a little too excited and he wouldn’t stop talking.

After a few minutes of his jabbering, Mena yelled, “Seanie, quiet! Go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow. Daddy’s going to take us out in the snow and we are going to build a snowman.”

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Mary: Mena, do you want to visit Santa at the mall tomorrow?

Mena: Yes!

Mary: You can sit on his lap and we can take a picture.

Mena: I don’t want to sit on his lap. I’m scared.

Mary: How else are you going to tell him what you want for Christmas?

Mena: Hmm… We can write him letters…

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As we watched the street outside our home, Mena turned to me with a question.

“Daddy, some cars follow the rules and some cars do not follow the rules. Right, Daddy? You follow the rules, right? The police car taught you to follow the rules, right Daddy?”

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For some unknown reason, my daughter who is almost five years old is a messier eater than her younger brothers. After a spaghetti dinner at Noodles and Company, I had to take Mena to the restroom to clean the sauce off her hands, face, and neck. It had been a while since I had brought her into the boys’ bathroom and she started to argue with me.

“I need to go in this one, Daddy.” She pointed to the girls’ bathroom.

“I can’t go in there because I am a guy. But little girls can go in the boys’ bathroom if they are with their dads.”

“And Jesus says it’s okay?” she asked.

“Yes, Mena, Jesus says it’s okay.”

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We went to the park this past weekend. Mena found a matured dandelion and brought it to Mary to blow into the wind.

“Mommy, make a wish!” She held out the dandelion for Mary to blow. “Do they really give you wishes? What do you want to wish for?”

“I don’t know,” Mary said. “What should I wish for?”

“For your kids to be kind and gentle to each other?”

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Mena already knows how to write her name. She can count and knows her letters. I think she will be a fast learner!

Sean on the other hand, plays duck, duck, goose…with himself.

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As Mena and Mary were looking at our wedding photos, Mena asked me a question.

Mena: Daddy, who watched me when you and Mommy got married?

Me: Jesus watched you, in heaven.

Mena: Oh!

Later, while playing outside, a strong gust of wind blew through the backyard and Mena put out her arms as if she had wings. She pretended to be blowing away.

Mena: AHHHHHH! I’M BLOWING BACK TO HEAVEN!

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My children love it when I pull coins from their ears. I am not very good at it but to an audience made up entirely of children under the age of six, I might as well be Houdini.

The other day we went to The Play Station and when they got tired of the tubes and ball pit, Mena and Sean asked for money for the quarter games. I started my I-don’t-have-change routine when Sean pulled out both of his ears like Dumbo and asked, “Dad, is there some in my ears?”

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While traveling with the kids, I used Siri on my iPhone to call Mary.

Me: Siri, call “Mary Kelly.”

Seanie: Mary Kelly?

Mena: Mary Kelly is Mom. Mary Kelly is her maiden name.

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Overheard by Mary as the kids played in the backyard:

Mena: SEEEEEAAAN! I told you not to mess around! First of all, don’t play with the rake! Second of all, don’t ruin anything! And third of all, DON’T TOUCH!

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After brushing her teeth, Mena approached me with a big smile.

“Daddy, is the dentist going to be mad at me?”

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While watching the children’s television program Word World, Mena commented: “I feel like I should just jump through the screen and tell them they’re not supposed to be made of letters!”

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As we drove up to a coffee shop:

Me: Mena, would you like to go in this time? You could ask for a sticker!

Mena: No-o… You could do it for me! Remember, Daddy? I’m shy. Remember?

Me: Are you sure?

Mena: Maybe when I’m five. When I’m five, I won’t be shy anymore!

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A conversation between mother and daughter:

Mary: Mena, guess whaaaaat!

Mena: WHAT?

Mary: I love you!

Mena: Ugh! That’s not something special!

Mary: What do you mean?

Mena: That’s not like going somewhere, or playing something, or eating something special like cake!

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One of the many ways I enjoy teasing my daughter is to offer her imaginary foods to eat. It drives her crazy. My most successful invention so far has been goo-goo berries. After weeks and weeks of offering her this imaginary fruit, her frustration hit a boiling point and she screamed, “Goo-goo berries are delicious, but they are NOT REAL!”

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It became clear to me once, on a Sunday drive, just how funny the differences are among my children’s personalities.

While singing a song on the radio, word for word, Mena paused and asked: “Mommy, what does ‘glory’ mean?” She had heard the word in the song.

She is constantly absorbing her surroundings, processing them, making connections, and asking questions.

“Is that the restaurant we went to for Sean’s birthday? Is it?” she asked as we drove by. “We had ice cream!”

While this was going on, Sean (whose birthday was six months before) was talking to himself. “Inka bink a bottle of ink the cork falls out and DAAADDY STINKS… Inka bink a bottle of ink…”

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I bought a little toy helicopter for the kids and myself. After countless crashes, it was near the end of its life. I thought I would give Mena a chance to fly it before it was broken beyond repair, so I showed her the basics and handed her the controls. Not surprisingly, it shot up like a rocket, full speed into the ceiling, and fell to the ground like a ton of bricks. She handed me the controls, laughing, and said, “Silly Daddy. I’m a little kid. I can’t fly it.” She paused. “I guess it’s worth a try!”

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Another Mena classic:

Mena: Mommy, the moon is only a half. Does God and baby Jesus have a wand with all the other pieces?”

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Mary was upstairs putting baby Anthony to bed for what seemed like the tenth time (he was teething). He was screaming at the top of his lungs, and Mena was sitting downstairs next to me, listening to all of this go on. She turned to me. “Daddy, baby Anthony is frustrated with his life!”

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Joys of being a dad #1579:

Hearing Seanie (one and a half years old) walking around the house singing, “Ho, daddy, ho, daddy,” because the song had the word “daddy” in it.

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As Mary listened to the kids in the other room:

Mena: Hey! Let’s get married! Sean, marry me!

Sean: “O-tay!”

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While driving in the car:

Mena: Daddy, I like you and Mommy.

Me: Thanks, Mena. Who else do you like?

Mena: Anthony!

Me: What about Seanie? Do you like Seanie, too?

Mena: Um… I like Harvey and Bo!

(Harvey and Bo are the family dogs.)

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I constantly use sayings and phrases that the kids don’t understand. The other day I took Mena, Sean, and Anthony for a walk. Mary called to tell us dinner was ready and that we should hurry home. It was very cold and we were four or five blocks away, so I tried to speed up the convoy.

“We need to get home. Dinner is ready—we need to book it!”

“A book?” Mena asked.

For some reason I thought the issue was my diction and not my choice of words, so I repeated and enunciated the words.

“We need to BOOK IT home. Dinner is ready.”

“There’s a book at home?” Sean asked, puzzled.

Mena began laughing. I realized we would starve or freeze before they understood the phrase, so I gave in.

“We need to move quickly.”

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At Mass today, we played another game of “Can they talk any louder?” Seanie was talking, so Mena shushed him, so he shushed her back…and what followed was a series of shushes much louder than the two talking kids. If I had a dime for every eye roll my family has caused at Mass…

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Does anyone else with young boys in diapers feel like they are playing Russian roulette? With two sons under the age of two, I have a sinking feeling that one of these days I’m going to get it between the eyes.

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After the Offertory at Mass today, I argued with Seanie. He wanted to give more money, but I told him “No” and that Jesus was on the altar. The congregation heard, yelled from our pew: “I want money. Jesus isn’t here!”

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The highlights from my daughter’s rendition of “Rudolf, the Red-Nosed Reindeer”:

Mena: Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer, had a very shiny nose. And if you ever saw him, you would even say it grows… Then, one froggy Christmas Eve, Santa came to say…

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At Mass, Mary and I don’t distract our kids with games or pacify them with snacks—so for little kids with short attention spans it can be a long sixty minutes.

Even though they can’t tell time, the kids seem to know instinctually when Mass should end. It never fails: if the homily runs long or there is a baptism, the kids become restless right around the fifty-minute mark.

Mena copes with the length by asking, “How many songs till Mass is over?” Seanie, on the other hand (and after many disciplinary issues) has been obsessed with being good—to the point of asking dozens of times throughout Mass, “Am I good now?”

This past weekend, Mary and I switched off Masses, and I took Sean and Mena to the later Mass. It was so packed we stood in the atrium off to the side. Seanie asked whether he was good so many times that I began to wonder whether it was possible for a kid to be naughty just by asking, “Am I good?” After a stern rebuke, Seanie gave me a few minutes of peace and quiet.

Minutes later, a lady walked past us with her two kids, a young girl and boy, and hid in the back corner of the room. It appeared her son’s bad behavior had forced her out. He started melting down until the poor mother was forced to retreat further into the restroom.

Seanie turned to me and said, “That boy was naughty.” He paused for a moment and then, as if to draw a contrast between himself and the boy, asked, “Am I good NOW?”

I have to admit, he made a compelling case!

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We overheard Mena explaining a new game to her younger cousin Rachel. “So if you lose, then you lose, and if I win, then I win. So let’s pretend I win and you lose, okay?”

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Mena: Daddy, do cars drink gas when they are off?

Me: No, only when they are on.

Mena: How do they drink gas?

I made a sipping sound with my mouth.

Mena: Daaaddy… Cars don’t have mouths!

Me: Okay, they burn it.

Mena: Ewwwwww!

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For a long time, I have been able to get away with telling my kids essentially the same bedtime story over and over again. Eventually, they asked for a new one.

Mena: Daddy, why do all your stories have monsters? Can you tell us a different story?

Me: I can’t think of one. Ask me again tomorrow.

Mena: It’s easy, Daddy. Just think and talk at the same time. Like this: “Once upon a time, there was a unicorn and her friend the pig.” See? Like that, Daddy.

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Often when I go on an errand I take one or two of the kids with me. One day, I took Mena and as usual, we got into a discussion that led to a funny exchange. Earlier, Mary had talked with Mena about being a good example to her younger brothers.

Mena: Daddy, I am a good girl.

Me: Oh, good. What does that mean?

Mena: I have manners.

Me: Oh, okay. And what else?

Mena: That’s it… Today I am going to practice being a good girl, and tomorrow I am going to do it!

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Seanie sits in his car seat and sings to himself, over and over, “Up above the…ee, i, ee, i, oooohhhh…”

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Deep thoughts, from Mena:

“Mom, how will I marry a boy someday if all the boys we know are dads?”

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“Do twins have the same guardian angel?”

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“Mom, I sure hope someday I will have a ‘marry ring’ instead of this Barbie ring!”

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“Mom, will there be toilets in heaven so we can go potty?”

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“When the clouds rain, are they crying?”

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Last night I was roughhousing with the kids to tire them out; it was late but they had an abundance of energy. As is common, Seanie went overboard and hurt one of the other kids. He just doesn’t know his own strength.

That particular evening he just couldn’t seem to find a lower gear, so I took drastic action. I held him close and told him to calm down and count to ten. When he finished I released him. I had to do it a couple times but it seemed to have the desired effect. Soon after, Mary and I sent them all to bed.

The next day, Seanie and I were playing in the living room and we started to wrestle. At one point I had him pinned; he tried to wiggle away but to no avail. At this point he would usually call for reinforcements and his siblings would rush in to help him. I looked around to prepare myself for the impending assault. But Sean thought for a moment—and then started to count: “One, two, three…”

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As I walked downstairs, I saw Seanie chasing Mena around in a circle. In hot pursuit, he was yelling, “Tickle, tickle, tickle!” Mena, swinging her right arm behind her, was yelling in a pleading voice, “RED LIGHT! RED LIGHT!”

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Mena: It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring. He wet the bed and bumped his head, and he couldn’t get up in the morning.

Me: Wet the bed?

Mena: That’s what old men do, Daddy!

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Mena: We should go to a restaurant.

Me: We don’t have money to eat out all the time.

Mena: We could buy more money!

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While we were driving on the highway, we saw a white water tower on the horizon. It was painted with red stripes, and trees obstructed its base.

Mena: MAMA! There’s a big present in the sky!

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Mena: What are we going to do today?

Mary: What do you want to do today?

Mena: Go to the broccoli tree.

(The broccoli tree is a playground at the mall.)

Mary: No way!

Mena: Why not? We haven’t been there in forever. Come on, Mom! Give it a chance!

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Seanie’s interest in cowboys and guns was sudden and unexpected. It became apparent I had dropped the ball teaching him the correct way to play Cops and Robbers and Cowboys and Indians when Mary texted me one afternoon.

Mary: You need to spend more manly time with your son.

Me: Why?

Mary: Today he was shooting ghosts and frogs in the closet, and his guns went “squeeze, squeeze” or “shoot, shoot” instead of “bang, bang.”

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Mary’s family has a dinner table tradition. One of the kids will yell, “Is Mom the best cook?” Everyone else responds, “Well, I should say!” My kids liked the tradition, and one evening after I brought home Papa John’s pizza Seanie yelled, “Is Dad the best pizza buyer?”

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Mena: Mommy, I hope your eye-tacs [contacts] come tomorrow.

Mary: Me too, honey.

Mena: I hope you feel better, Mommy!

Mena: Thanks, honey!

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Joys of being a dad #4579:

Mena: Daddy, I am afraid of the dark… But I am not afraid when I am with you.

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The way I put my laptop to sleep: close the lid.

The way Seanie puts my laptop to sleep: tucks it in with his blanket.

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Classic Seanie moments:

Mary: Seanie, did you hit your brother?

Seanie: No-o… I punched him.

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Seanie: And now I know my A, B, Cheese.

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Mena: Look, Seanie! Red Lobster!

Seanie: The Bad Monster?

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Me: Sean, where is your blanket?

Seanie: I know nothing!

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Me: Sean, did you hit your brother?

Seanie: I know nothing!

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I can neither confirm nor deny that I was jumping up and down yelling “Touchdown!” like a madman during the last four minutes of the 49ers game. But first thing the next morning, when Anthony woke up, all we heard was a little voice repeating, “Touchdown! Touchdown!” with the occasional sound of a toy hitting the bedroom floor as though he were spiking it.

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I brought home some burgers and as Mena opened her box, she exclaimed: “Well done, Daddy!”

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When Mary was pregnant with our fourth child, I received a text from her: Two big kids in bed and the tally is in. Mena says girl. Seanie says boy. Anthony just says he doesn’t care because either way he’s a big brother.

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One day, as Mary was joking around with Mena:

Mena: Nooo… Mom…

Mary: I’m just teething. I mean teasing!

Me: We’ve been hanging around little kids too long.

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Before Christmas, Mena had been getting up during the night more than usual, so I started pulling the Santa card. It seemed to work at first; unfortunately, I didn’t think too far ahead. After Christmas…

Me: Mena, are you going to be a good girl and stay in bed tonight?

Mena: Why do I need to be a good girl? Santa already brought the presents.

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While we were stuck in traffic, Mena said: “Honk at them, Daddy. That works!”

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Mena: Mom, you look tired.

Mary: I am tired, honey.

Mena: Well then, you should take a little nap.

Mary: I can’t. There is too much to do!

Mena: Well then, Daddy should help you because working together is an important thing!

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Mena asked Mary, “Mom, what machine will they use to get baby Cassidy out?”

Mary told her the doctors would not use a machine, and explained that she has to push the baby out.

“What?” Mena asked. “Why will you have to push her out?”

“God made it that way,” Mary responded.

Mena gave her a look of disbelief and exclaimed, “But it’s not like she can just fall out of your mouth or something!”

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I carry around an after-hours pager for work. When it goes off, I receive a text about the affected router or server. Needless to say, I am not usually happy when it goes off—but I didn’t realize how the kids perceived my reaction, until today.

This afternoon the pager went off and, before I could reach it, Seanie grabbed it. He opened the pager, “read” it, and with a disgusted look on his face gave the biggest full-body sigh I had ever seen.

Now I just need to teach him to fix the issues.

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Usually have a nap in the early afternoon. Mena is usually allowed to stay up, but we maintain the illusion that ALL the kids go to bed, so we go through an exaggerated naptime routine for her. She gathers all her stuffed animals and blankets on our bed and pretends to go to sleep.

The other day, Seanie insisted on tucking Mena in for her nap. She was lying on the couch. He gathered her blankets, covered her up, and kissed her goodnight.

He and I started up the stairs, and we couldn’t have been more than twenty feet away when Mena yelled in what I can only believe she thought was a whisper: “Daddy, is the coast clear? Can I get up now?”

I hope this means she will be equally horrible at sneaking around when she is a teenager.