Chrissy found this laying on her husband’s pillow:
When documenting incidents of flatulence in relation to bedding, accurate timestamping is always important.
Don’s 5-year-old daughter made this birthday card for her papa.
It really captures everything a papa could hope for on his birthday.
Attentive wait staff? Check.
Good beer? Check.
Happy birthday, indeed.
On behalf of SKW’s followers, a toast to Don, his daughter, and Papa! With good beer, of course. (Are there bad beers?)
Thanks for sharing, Don!
(You can check out Don’s thoughts on his daughter’s beerthday masterpiece at his blog, Don of All Trades.
Leanne Shirtliffe (aka “Ironic Mom“) — the far-better and far-more-female half of Stuff Kids Write — has published a book!
Please check out her humorous parenting memoir titled Don’t Lick the Minivan by either clicking here or on the book’s cover you see to your left (no, your other left). Then buy it.
If you’re a parent, you’ll laugh and nod knowingly as you read Leanne’s honest, hilarious description of life with her twins (not those twins: her kids). If you’re not a parent, the book is a reasonably-priced form of birth control. Either way, it’s a win for you!
Following is a post from Leanne which first appeared on Stuff Kids Write in May 2011. It’s funny in a cringe-worthy sort of way and gives you a pretty good idea of what you can expect from Don’t Like the Minivan.
Soccer night. Two kids on two different teams playing at two different fields. I have enough equipment to load down a trio of Sherpas. My husband is at a meeting and, as usual, I’m barely coping in my attempt to get everything and everyone out the door. I send Vivian and William outside while I gather the last of the gear, which includes my mitts and sunglasses (nothing says soccer season in Canada like contrasting accessories).
The door slams behind me. I notice Vivian and William collecting rocks on the side of our driveway.
I load the last of the stuff and walk around to open William’s side of the van.
I see this writing:
“Did you use a rock to write on the van?” I say. Sometimes you have to ask the obvious.
Vivian looks at me. I can tell she’s stalling. “I’ll just crawl in William’s side,” she says.
“You didn’t write—“ I interrupt myself. “Did you carve things too?”
I walk over to the other side.
I see this.
My kids know by my speechlessness that they’ve done wrong.
I rub my index finger across one of the gorges. “This won’t come off,” I say. “Ever.”
I hear choruses of “I’m sorry” and “We didn’t know.”
And I think: Freaking stuff kids write.
manifesto letter and decide for yourself, but we’re pretty sure that 9-year-old Rylan — of Lego portfolio fame — would like to have a dog.
Thanks to Travis and Suzie — Rylan’s heartless parents — for sharing this masterpiece of wanton kid-inflicted parental shame inducement with SKW.
Last year, when Dylan was three, her nanny asked her questions about her daddy and recorded her answers. With Andy’s permission, we’ve annotated Dylan’s responses.
One thing is for sure: Dylan loves her Daddy.
Special thanks to Andy of Our Life in 3D for submitting this. He and Dylan’s Mommy have an entertaining daughter!
With both Mother’s and Father’s Day coming up, why not have your child fill in a questionnaire and send us the humorous results? Email us at stuffkidswrite(at)gmail.com.
Years ago, when S was six, she desperately wanted to help her older brother. He had hurt himself and S. was insisting on nursing his injuries. Her 11-year-old brother obviously had little faith in her medical skills and wouldn’t let S near him.
So S wrote her big brother a persuasive note.
Bless little S, her persuasion techniques, and the effort she took to spell “from.”
Don’t stop believing.
Except that song is now stuck in my head.
Thanks to S’s mom who submitted this note from her archives. Please go visit her blog at Art Club Blog.
Please look through your own archives and send submissions of funny stuff that kids write to stuffkidswrite(at)gmail(dot)com.
My friend Lisa has 3 daughters within two years of each other. Their household is a busy one. As a family, they do a lot of crazy things together, like going backwoods camping, sleeping in tents in the winter for fun, and – gasp – doing crafts.
Recently, one of her 8-year-old twins decided to keep her older sister out of her room. She crafted the following note and hung it on her door.
M. does mean it. I know that little puppy in the corner looks innocent, but he could turn on you.
I think I need one of these for my bedroom. Only I might change the “over” to “under.” I mean it. Woof.
I wrote schmaltzy, over-the-top poetry as a teenager. I still have some of it. Vague notions of what it would be like to be loved by a boy, or at least to find one who wasn’t afraid of me, filled my notebook.
Most of this over-emoting passed in Junior High, thankfully. In Senior High, I seemed to hit my stride (almost literally on the basketball court), replacing many of my obsessive thoughts about boys with other obsessions, like my free throw and turnover percentages.
Now, decades later, I think I’ve passed on my early teen propensity for melodrama to my daughter, Vivian, who frequently expresses all of her emotions in writing. Recently, I annoyed my Grade Two cutie once again. I can’t remember what I wouldn’t do for her (perhaps pack her school bag or let her have a third cheese stick). Suffice it to say I was ignoring her request, like many an online parent.
Snubbed, Vivian threw open her craft drawer, yanked out a sheet of paper, and scrawled her thoughts quickly. She then slammed her note on the table beside me and strode away.
I had come face-to-face with a teenager, possibly my younger self.
I closed my computer and read the note below:
As a parent, not only have I become my mother, but I’ve also become my daughter.
Send help, most likely to Vivian, who’s stuck with me.
Please help me to interpret Vivian’s usage of “Uh-ta” in the note. Funny responses are welcome.