Don’t kids say the best things sometimes? Being kids, they get away with saying things adults can’t; they say things without thinking about how they can come across. Sometimes they can be evil. I feel bad now, thinking about the times when I was a shitty little kid and I would shout “I hate you” when I didn’t get my own way. Sometimes they can be sweet. Like my little brother who is always telling me that I’m his best friend (we even have a best friend handshake. And what?) or when I come home after work or from being out with my friends and he says that he really missed me. He can make me feel really guilty though. When I told him I was going back to my other house (uni) he went dead silent and wouldn’t speak to me for about five minutes. Until he piped up with, “I’ll really miss you.” D: Whyyyy?
Other times, they can be downright hilarious. Like me. I was a hilarious
and modest child. I remember when I was younger and me and my family were driving behind this really, really slow old woman. In my naive way I shouted, “Oooh she’s such a kerb crawler!” Just, you know, innocently thinking that meant she was a really slow driver and was, well, practically crawling along the kerb. It was actually only in the last few years that I finally understood why my parents laughed at my joke so much. And why they told all their friends. I had, inadvertently, suggested that the poor, frail, old lady was trying to pick up a prostitute.
My little brother very recently said something very funny as well. My other brother, Ryan, the oldest of the three, is sixteen and, as most boys of that age, not very blessed in the acne department. Both my youngest brothers also have chickenpox. So Samuel, being three years old and bloody hilarious said to him,
“Ryan, do you have chickenpox?”
“Urgh? (It’s the generic grunt that teenage boys put before every sentence- or use instead of) No, I don’t.”
“What are all them spots on your face then?”
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I think I nearly died. And so did my mum. Ryan didn’t find it quite as funny, he slammed up to his room in a sulk with another grunt and a “shut up.”
Another kid today at work amused me. She had to be about seven years old and her mum was buying “5o Shades of Grey.”
“Can I read it?”
“Erm, no darling, it’s a grown up’s book”
“Is it that book they were talking about on the radio?”
“Dirty mummy! You dirty woman!”