My Kids Are Smarter (Mouthed) Than Yours

My kids are like robots. They’re smarter, faster, and more functional than I am.

I suppose I can only blame myself for making such awesome offspring. Sure my wife helped, but only in areas where it really matters - like kindness, empathy, and unselfishness. All of the other useless attributes they get from me. Like wit. Sense of humor. And killer good looks.

As I watch my little rascals go about their day-to-day lives, it’s become increasingly apparent that their smart mouths are going to land one (probably both) of them in the clink. Jury’s still out if it’ll be a normal jail in the states for sassing off to a cop during a routine traffic stop or a prison in some third world country while participating in Doctors Without Borders. I should probably teach them how to play dominos just in case.

There’s really not a day that goes by where one of my children doesn’t impress me somehow, not because of their grades or charity or willingness to cuddle with Daddy despite having better things to do, but because of just how much they are like their old man. The quick witted things that come out of their mouths makes me all teary eyed and proud to be a parent. A mentor.

It’s like the wheels are always in motion with these two, as if they’re just waiting for Traci or myself to slip up and leave the door wide open for them to respond with some off-the-cuff remark. So when the wheels do come off it shouldn’t really come as a surprise, yet it always does.

Because of this, I’ve come up with a list of five outlandish things each of them has said in recent weeks that only substantiates my point and furthers the fact that I have the smartest (mouthed) kids in the world. I’ve held nothing back. For you to know me, you have to know them. Not some cutesy painted image of them wearing pastels on a lazy spring day, but the real them. The unplugged them. The them I have to put up with on a daily basis.

Here you go. Don’t be jealous.

1)      Brady: Daddy, step on that ant and squish it. Then it will be dead. Like my mommy’s grandma.

2)      Kacie: One day I’m going to move away to college. Then get married. Okay, maybe not married, but I’m still going away to college. Which means I won’t be here every day when you get home from work. Try not to cry. Especially right now, Dad. Sheesh.

3)      Brady: I can’t wait to watch that Yogi the Bear movie! I love him. And Owie.

Traci: Owie?

Brady: Yogi the Bear’s friend.

Me: You mean Boo Boo?

Brady: That’s what I said. Owie.

4)      Kacie: Can we not talk about penises?

Me: Your brother started it. Not me.

Kacie: He’s four. You haven’t been four in a long time. Like decades.

Me: If he wants to ask me about his penis then we’ll talk about his penis.

Kacie: Dad! Please! I don’t want to hear, talk, or think about penises.

Me: Remember that. Until you graduate college. Then maybe not until you’ve secured a good job for yourself. But at least graduate college first. Then you can think about penises all you want.

Kacie: If you mention that word again I’m going to talk about Justin Bieber until you beg me to stop.

5)      Brady: Daddy, you and my mommy have to make a baby.

Me: No, no we don’t.

Brady: Yes. You have to. You can create one.

Me: And how are we going to create one?

Brady: I have paper and Crayons. You can use them.

It’s hard to do anything that resembles actual parenting when your children are always spouting off crap like this, especially when they’re saying it while you’re trying to dole out punishments. I mean, how is one supposed to be taken seriously as a parent when the phrase “Go to your room!” can’t even be uttered with a straight face? I smile. They smile. I laugh. They laugh. I send them across the room to their mother so that she can succeed where I failed. It’s a vicious cycle that only perpetuates the notion that sometimes my parenting skills are downright anemic.

It’s all good in the Parent Hood though. Their daily shtick means that I get to write down anything I want regarding their antics and then share said antics with the world. If it embarrasses them then maybe it’ll teach them to be nicer to Daddy and occasionally allow (or at least pretend to allow) me to have the upper hand in all of this. Fair trade if you ask me.

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