My kids are notorious for saying the wrong thing, at the wrong time, or blabbing on & on without giving all the details, thereby making a big mess of things. . .
My oldest son is the observant one. When he was younger, he would watch and listen to someone, and then make comments. I am leaving out the names of the people to protect the guilty (I mean, the innocent), but it usually went something like this...."so & so, why do you talk like that?", or "How'd you get those wrinkles on your face?...", or "why do you always jiggle when you run? - you're really squishy". Don't get me wrong, he's not mean spirited...a little too honest at times, and very inappropriate. Thank goodness he has grown out of that stage.
Now, with my youngest son, the problem is more severe. He rambles on to anyone who will listen, giving waaaayyy too much information, and usually leaving out crucial points. For example, my brother is always kidding with the boys about getting them a "girl" toy for Christmas, just to hear them yell "NO, we don't want a Barbie Doll!". So as a joke, we decided one year, to get my brother a cheap, "Dollar Store" doll. We wrapped it up, and on Christmas morning, the boys presented him with the doll, and we all got a good laugh out of it. My brother left the doll at our house, and it didn't take too long for them to destroy it. The dolls leg was torn off in a matter of minutes.
Many months later, my son was riding in the car with my sister-in-law, just talking about random things, when he explained that his Uncle was probably going to be mad because he tore the leg off of his Barbie. I got a phone call that afternoon from my sister-in-law wanting to know why my brother had a doll.
Then there was the classic time, when the boys were ages 4 & 2. I had to go to Alabama to my grandmothers funeral. I wanted to go, but I didn't want to leave my kids (I had never been away from them for more than one night). So against my better judgement, I brought them with me. They couldn't sit still for the service, and I ended up in the break room listening to the service over the intercom. I didn't let them in the room where the casket was displayed because I didn't think they could handle seeing the body.
When it was time for the graveside service, we rode in the car up to the graveyard, and as soon as I opened the door, they spotted my brother with the other pal bearers, carrying the casket over to the grave. Much to my horror, they climbed their way over a couple of small tombstones, my oldest boy screamed "hey Uncle Marty!" I was trying to run to my son and cover up his mouth, people were starting to gather around the tent where the grave had been dug. And before I could get to my children...the youngest yells out "hey, what's in the box?" I guess I don't need to tell you how devastated I was...but I have to admit, it was so innocently funny, I couldn't help myself, I had to laugh!
Kids - you just NEVER know what they're going to say. . .
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