Kids say the darndest things, oh yes they do

        As a parent, I can attest to the fact that kids say some awfully funny things.  Here’s a collection I’ve kept of humorous conversations/quotes from my daughter throughout her preschool days:

Dad (aka Scoop): I’m gonna squeeze you.

Sonya: But people don’t squeeze Sonyas.  Adults don’t squeeze children.

Dad: Do you know I was a kid once, too?

Sonya: Were you a girl?

Dad: No, I was a boy.

Sonya: I was a girl.

Sonya: Let’s play a game.  I’ll throw you into the lion’s den.  But don’t worry – they won’t eat you, because God will take care of you.

Mom: Do you want to go into the den too?

Sonya:  Oh, no.  We’ll just put you in there.

Mom: But God will take care of you, too.

Sonya: No, Mommy.  You go.

Sonya:  I wish we could visit your parents again.

Dad:  Grandpa and Grandma?  We’ll see them at Christmas.

Sonya: I wonder what Santa will bring them... Maybe he’ll bring them some kids.

Dad:  They already have kids.  I’m their kid.

Sonya: But you’re a bit older.  I wonder why you don’t have kids.

Dad:  I do – you’re my kid!

Sonya:  Oh.

Sonya (while playing with stuffed toys): I’m the mommy cat and the kittens are all one year old.  You can be the kittens.

Dad:  OK – I’m a really small cat (I hold up the smallest stuffed animal).  Why am I so much smaller than the other ones when we're all one year old?  Did you not feed me as much as the other cats?

Sonya (in a very serious tone): Actually, I fed you lots.  I gave you alcohol.

And now for my favourite – a few months ago I wrote word for word what my peace-loving daughter said during our regularly scheduled playtime:

The hunter and the hunted

We’re poor because we wasted all our money accidentally.  We just got poorer over the years.  People tried to give us more, but they didn’t want to waste their money.  So now we have to go hunting.

This dog is learning how to kill sheep and bunnies.  The sheep will say one more prayer before she’s dead.

(She proceeds to hunt a goose.)  Now we’ll kill its baby – I have to break its wings so it can’t fly.  Now let the dog kill it.

Now we’ll be First Nations – real First Nations who lived long ago.  Were they the ones that wore feathers on their heads? (She proceeds to adorn my head with some kind of First Nations headdress.)

That First Nations song that I love is going through my head.

Now we’ll drink some fish juice.  (Whispering) It’s really fish blood, but I put some honey and sugar in it!