May 6, 2008
why we are never having family dinner again, ever
At the dinner table.
Henry: Dad, how did you know that Charlie’s arm was broken?
Charlie: Because it was BENT!
Me: Whoa, stop. Please.
Henry: But did you KNOW it was broken?
Wade: Yes.
Henry: How?
Charlie: IT WAS BENT!
Me: STOP. Please.
Henry: Come on, Dad, tell me. How did you know that Charlie’s arm was broken?
Charlie: Henry, he knew because it was BENT. Like THIS.
Me: OH MY GOD I AM BEGGING YOU TO STOP NOW.
Henry: How much was it bent? Like this? Or more like this?
Charlie: It was TOTALLY bent, just like this–
Me: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE STOP NOW PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU.
And then Wade choked on his dinner because he was laughing so hard. The end.
Posted by Susan @ 9:33 pm • three martini parenting, those damn kids
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May 6th, 2008 at 10:46 pm, All Adither Says:
Hopefully you weren’t enjoying some nice drumsticks for dinner while this discussion was going on.
May 7th, 2008 at 7:07 am, Crisanne Says:
Don’t you love how they have to know all the details? Esp at dinner time??
Here’s to a gore-free dinner tonight!
May 7th, 2008 at 9:14 am, the planet of janet Says:
sounds like perfect dinnertable conversation to me.
but then the things WE talk about would make a sailor blush.
May 7th, 2008 at 9:14 am, A. Berkoski Says:
I am so thankful that one of mine can’t talk at all and the other can only barely string sentences together. And then my daughter is too haughty to talk to us at dinner.
May 7th, 2008 at 9:20 am, Janssen Says:
Eek! I’d be losing it with that kind of talk - I’m a huge wimp.
May 7th, 2008 at 9:22 pm, Deva Says:
my mom had to institute rules about what was and was not inappropriate dinnertime conversation. especially when we started comparing the appearance of foods to things that came out of our bodies.
May 8th, 2008 at 8:22 am, mimbles Says:
When I was in year 1 at school I broke my arm. Twice. The second time was only a few weeks after the plaster came off from the first time and it happened when I was spending the afternoon with friends and we were out walking their dog.
I tripped and fell and much to my friend’s mum’s horror announced I had broken my arm again. I have a vivid memory of her asking me if I was sure and me pointing out that it really wasn’t supposed to be BENT like that and that I knew it was broken because that’s how it had looked the first time I did it!
Hello *waves* I just had to delurk for this because I’ve been in Charlie’s role in conversations like that and reading this post made me shudder and smile at the same time
May 8th, 2008 at 11:54 am, Aimee Greeblemonkey Says:
Sounds like a good dinner to me! What’s the problem?