Communication

“Snack?”

“You’re hungry, sweetie? What can I get you?”

“[mumblemumble] crackers.”

“Okay. Do you want goldfish crackers?”

“No!”

“Fine, geez. What crackers do you want?”

“Grandma crackers.”

“Grandma crackers? Did grandma give you special crackers this weekend?”

“Grandma crackers.”

I pull out every type of crackers we have – Wheat Thins. Stoned Wheat Thins. Carr’s. Organic Stoneground Wheat…

“No! Grandma crackers.”

“Sweetie, I’m sorry, I don’t know what grandma cra…ohhhhh wait. Do you mean these?”


“Grandma crackers! Yayyyy!”

{27 Comments}

27 thoughts on “Communication”

  1. The daddy at your house may be a nicer mommy than you are, but you are still a much nicer mommy than I am. I think we’ve got an old box of Rosemary and Olive Oil Triscuits that suffices as “crackers” here.

  2. Mmm…now I have a hankering for some graham crackers. Maybe I’ll call my grandma and tell her to send some over here post haste!

  3. I love grandma crackers! And you, my friend, keep an awful lot of crackers in your house. Or maybe I just keep too few?

  4. I had a similar conversation with my three year old a few days ago. My husband bought him some sort of generic cereal then hid it in a cabinet we rarely use. He kept asking me for Kangaroo cereal and I kept offering Total, Kashi, oatmeal…finally I opened the cabinet he pointed to and there was a giant bag of puffed corn cereal with a blue kangaroo on it. Of course.

  5. I love it. I’m glad I’m not the only one who goes through this. Dawson demanded “joop joops” one morning. It took me twenty minutes to figure out he was saying “Fruit Loops” because my mother has a box at her house. All we had were Cheerio’s.

  6. When I finally brought Bug home from the hospital, Fric and Frac had spent almost a year in the daily care of my dad, so I could be with the baby.It was an adjustment and I was riddled with guilt. To compensate, I tried to jump through all the damn hoops they showed me.But I couldn’t figure out why they kept asking for jelly beans. I would give them some, they would look at them and then have a fit, because those weren’t the jelly beans Grampa gave them. (They were four and three.)I bought every damn type of jelly beans I could get my mitts on. None of them worked. I was at my wit’s end and my kids were starting to morph into demons about the damn mysterious jelly beans.Finally, I phoned my dad up and asked him what type of jelly beans he gave the kids.His response:Canned baked beans.Fucker. Who calls those things jelly beans?

  7. lady, if you ever asked me to guest blog for you i think i would literally fall over and piss myself with the sheer shock of something so amazing happening to little ol’ not-even-a-mommy me. honest to god, i want to push you out the door to a vacation now, just so i can guest blog for you. how does aruba strike you? or fiji? or even the marriott down the street? 😉

  8. Yes, I’ve had quite a few conversations like that myself. They’re so funny — kids get really offended if you don’t understand what they’re talking about too.

  9. Haha!I had a goofy mis-hearing story from dinner today, except that I have no excuse (well, maybe a noisy restaurant) because the speaker was an adult. He was explaining that he’d worked on technical systems so old that they held mag-amps . . . and I heard “maggots” – talk about confusing.

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