Chloe, age 4, and Paul (also called DiDi, Chinese for little brother), age 2, are our grandchildren. They live in Shanghai where their parents teach. Our son and his wife have captured some delightful comments from the kids and are allowing me to share them here. Enjoy!
The cold, cold, cold wind
I’m holding Chloe on my lap and listening to some rather reflective music involving a choir. After a few minutes of quiet observation, Chloe pops her thumb out of her mouth and says “Daddy, those people are saying ‘ooh ooh ooooh.’ They sound very sad. They sound so, so sad. They sound like they have no father to be with them. They have no mommy and no aunts or uncles. They have no cups, no yogurt, no food, no tissues, no beds, no comfy cozy room, and no big door to close … they just have to stay outside where the cold, cold, cold wind is blowing on them all the time.”
… well, I didn’t think it was THAT sad!
Yummy and wiggly
Chloe’s prayer over breakfast (which consisted of yogurt, carrots, and jello):
“Dear God, thank you for that jello is so wiggly and it’s very yummy, and thank you … um … for the world. It’s nice. And thank you for this food amen.”
God says you have to work and stuff
Chloe’s just awoken from a little snooze and we’re chatting when I yawn mightily.
Me: Boy, I’m tired … maybe I should have taken a nap too, huh?
Chloe: [waving her blanket at me emphatically] But God says you have do work and stuff, so you can buy me food!
… … …
I think that’s the first time she beat me with a theological argument. Probably won’t be the last.
Today’s Sentence I Can’t Believe I’m Saying:
“DiDi, it is not OK to pour yogurt on people when they’re in bed. That’s naughty.”
What is a wrap?
I’m cooking breakfast for the kids.
Me: Chloe, do you want your eggs in a wrap?
Chloe: Yes! Yes, I want a wrap!
DiDi: Wanna wap too.
Chloe: Um, Daddy, what is a wrap?
Me: Well, a rap is when you drop some fresh rhymes. You know, on the mike.
Chloe: … try again, Daddy. What is a wrap?
Nothing gets past her
DiDi has fastened a pink bear barrette into his flowing blonde locks and is admiring his reflection in the mirror. He comes over, climbs into my lap, unsnaps the barrette, and holds it up to my head.
DiDi: You wear it, Daddy!
He then tries unsuccessfully several times to get it to clip onto my bald pate. Finally he shakes his head and withdraws it.
DiDi: Daddy, you have no hair. [Then, clipping it back into his own] You have no hair, and I have YES hair!
I love you more than…..
Chloe: Mommy, I love you more than sand.
Des: Well, I love you more than rocks.
Des: I have no idea. I just think it’s cute. Chloe, I love you more than chocolate.
Chloe: Um, I love you more than … spreading chocolate [Nutella]. I love you more than … uh … uh … pink chocolate!
Des: You think about chocolate a lot, huh?
Me: Well, chocolate’s the best thing there is, according to Chloe. She already went straight to the top in her declarations of love to you.
Chloe: Straight to the top … to get some chocolate!
Son, eat your herbs!
I’m playing outside with the kids.
Chloe: Phew! I’m so sweaty! My hair is all wet. Also, Daddy, I have a snail in my hair. Can you help me get it out?
A few minutes after we sent the snail on his way, she told me that I was the kid and she was the mom. I agreed to go along with it. She immediately yanked up a small sapling and handed it to me.
Chloe: These are herbs. Eat them, son.
Me: This is a pretty big herb.
Chloe: You can just shovel it in your mouth.
Me: [suppressing laughter] Yes, I suppose I could.
Chloe: Listen to me, son. If you don’t shovel that herb in your mouth when I say ‘two,’ I will spank your little bottom. One. TWO! [I am physically assaulted]
Do we ‘count’ before punishments? No. Do we instruct the children to shovel herbs into their mouths? No. Who is raising these kids while I’m sleeping?!