This week CNN ran a story called "9 Things You Shouldn’t Say to Your Child." Personally, I was surprised that they could only think of nine, but I assumed that I could guess them all without even reading their post. So I wrote down my list of things that I thought you should never say to your kid and turns out their list of prohibited things included stuff like “Don’t be sad” and “Great job!”
My list included things like, “Of course you can go play with those bears” and “But how will you know you don’t like meth unless you try it?”
I suppose CNN and I will just have to agree to disagree on this one. But while we’re on the subject, I’d like to share with you my list of things you probably shouldn’t say to your child. (Feel free to add your own in the comments.)
- You made a "C-" in Social Studies? We paid to have your tail removed and this is how you repay me? Yeah, that’s right. You had a tail, Carole-Anne. And God help me, I will reattach it myself if you don’t get your shit together.
- Oh my gosh, that stray dog totally wants to hug you! Growling is just “loud purring.” If you‘ll stop screaming, he’ll probably stop biting.
- Why won’t I let you go to Chuck E. Cheese? Because your lies killed Santa Claus. What lies? Well I don’t know, Morgan. I’d ask Santa but I can’t. Because he’s dead.
- I did too get you a pony. It’s in the freezer. Are you hungry?
- Well, maybe I wouldn’t drink so much if you didn’t lose so many beauty pageants. YOU’RE COMPETING AGAINST 4-YEAR-OLDS, SARAH. HOW HARD COULD IT BE?
- So your mom has a new boyfriend, huh? Well, when he asks you to call him “daddy,” what do you say? That’s right. You say, “My mommy is a whore.”
- Well, when you were in my belly, you were twins. Then you ate your sister. And that’s why you can’t have a puppy.
- Why can’t you be more like the cat? Yes, Jackson, I am aware it ran away. My God, for a 6-year-old, you cannot take a hint. You know who could take a hint though? Mr. Sparkles. That cat had talent.
- Sometimes I regret stealing you from that leper colony.
- You have your father’s eyes. I kept them for you so you’d have something to remember him by. They’re in a box under your bed.
- ::bats eyes:: Who’s your friend? Is he in seventh grade too? Aren’t you going to introduce me?
- Well, I can’t drive to the hospital until I sober up, so you’ll just have to drop those fingers on ice for a few hours. Or in milk. I can’t remember which you do for cut-off fingers. But don’t use my milk. I am totally craving cereal right now.
What makes your list?