I wished, the crying in the middle of the night would stop and it did. The laughter stopped too, but the scent of baby powder still clings to my arms.
The demon was sticking its tongue at me, taunting and prodding, so I grabbed hold of his neck and strangled until his eyes bulged from his sockets and his tongue lolled, still and silent. Then it was just a baby and I wondered what happened to my meds.
Do not accuse me of bringing the kids here under false pretenses.
I said they could meet Mickey Mouse, not would.
“He’s just shy,” Grandma insisted, and convinced Henry’s mother to enroll him in daycare despite his tantrums whenever they went to the mall or to playdates.
Tell that to twenty screaming toddlers with simultaneous and spontaneous nosebleeds.
Little Dylan did not like the fact that Mrs. Butterworth would not answer his question, so he, somewhat reluctantly, decided to ask his mom, “Where do babies come from?” His lovely mother smiled, swam the length of the public pool to reach her son, and slapped him silly with a bologna sandwich.
Five trains, three hours, and a dozen busy signals sat behind him, as he collected his dignity and headed for the parking lot. “She wins again,” he muttered into a blackberry, canceling the week he’d planned for himself and his 9 yr old daughter.
“You’ve been a boy long enough; it’s time to grow up and face the world like a man,” the voice said sternly in my ear. There was a pause before he added: “Dad, are you listening?”
My mom watches kids in a daycare and there is a 4 year old boy and his little sister who is 3 months old. Today I saw him singing “Dumb Ways To Die” to her, as he shook her back and forth really fast. when I told him to stop he covered her mouth and nose with his hand. I pulled him away from her and he said “she’s MY baby!” …
The Side Effects of Having Kids
After a night of drinking with friends, Brad—the only father at the table—scratched his balls and announced he had to go “potty”. The hooker never took his phone number.
He looked worried, so she couldn’t help but ask, “What’s wrong?”
The seven year old boy answered, “If wishes came true, I’d hate to be the kid in the Oscar Meyer Hot Dog Commercial.”