Toddler Property Laws
- If I like it, it's mine.
- If it's in my hand, it's mine.
- If I can take it from you, it's mine.
- If I had it a little while ago, it's mine.
- If it's mine, it must never appear to be yours in any way.
- If I'm doing or building something, all the pieces are mine.
- If it looks like mine, it's mine.
- If I think it's mine, it's mine.
The New Toddler Miracle Diet For Adults
- Day 1:
Breakfast: One scrambled egg, one piece of toast with grape jelly. Eat 2 bites of egg, using your fingers; dump the rest on the floor. Take 1 bite of toast, then smear the jelly over your face and clothes.
- Lunch: Four crayons (any color), a handful of potato chips, and a glass of milk (3 sips, spill rest).
- Dinner:A dry bread-stick, two pennies, 4 sips of flat sprite.
- Bedtime Snack: Throw a piece of toast on kitchen floor
Breakfast: Pick up stale toast from kitchen floor and eat it. Drink half bottle of vanilla extract.
- Lunch: Half tube of lipstick and a handful of Purina Dog Chow (any flavor). One ice cube, if desired.
- Afternoon Snack: Lick an all-day sucker until sticky, take outside, drop in dirt. Retrieve and continue slurping until it is clean again. Bring inside and drop on rug.
- Dinner: A rock or an uncooked bean, which should be thrust up your left nostril. Pour grape Kool-Aide over mashed potatoes, eat with spoon.
- Day 3:
Breakfast: Two pancakes with plenty of syrup, eat one with fingers, rub in hair. Glass of milk; drink half, stuff other pancake in glass. After breakfast, pick up yesterday's sucker from rug, lick off fuzz, put it on the cushion of best chair.
- Lunch: Three matches, peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Spit several bites onto floor. Pour glass of milk on table and slurp up.
- Dinner: Dish of ice cream, handful of potato chips, some red punch. Try to laugh some punch through your nose, if possible.
- Final Day:
Breakfast: A quarter tube of toothpaste (any flavor), bit of soap, an olive. Pour a glass of milk over bowl of cornflakes, add half a cup of sugar. Once cereal is soggy, drink milk and feed cereal to dog.
- Lunch:Eat bread crumbs off kitchen floor and dining room carpet. Find that sucker and finish eating it.
- Dinner: A glass of spaghetti and chocolate milk. Leave meatball on plate. Mascara for dessert.
Preparation for parenthood
It's not just a matter of reading books and decorating the nursery. Here are twelve simple tasks for expectant parents to prepare themselves for the real-life experience of being a mother or father:
- ON this first one we have a difference between women and men...
- Women: To prepare for maternity, put on a dressing gown and stick a pillowcase filled with beans down the front. Leave it there for 9 months. After 9 months, take out 10% of the beans.
- Men: To prepare for paternity, go to the local drugstore, tip the contents of your wallet on the counter, and tell the pharmacist to help himself. Then go to the supermarket. Arrange to have your salary paid directly to their main office. Go home. Pick up the paper. Read it for the last time.
- Before you finally go ahead and have children, find a couple who are already parents and berate them about their methods of discipline, lack of patience, appallingly low tolerance levels, and how they allowed their children to run wild. Suggest ways in which they might improve their child's sleeping habits, toilet training, table manners, and overall behavior. Enjoy it - it will be the last time in your life that you will have all the answers.
- To discover how the nights will feel, walk around the living room from 5 pm to 10 pm carrying a wet bag weighing approximately 8 - 12 pounds, with a radio tuned to static (or some other obnoxious noise) playing loudly. At 10 pm, put the bag down, set the alarm for midnight, and go to sleep. Get up at 12 and walk around the living room again, with the bag, until 1 am. Put the alarm on for 3 am. As you can't get back to sleep, get up at 2 am and make a drink. Go to bed at 2:45 am. Get up at 3 am when the alarm goes off. Sing songs in the dark until 4 am. Put the alarm on for 5 am. Get up. Make breakfast. Keep this up for 5 years. Look cheerful.
- Can you stand the mess children make? To find out, first smear peanut butter on the sofa and jam on the curtains. Hide a piece of raw chicken behind the stereo and leave it there all summer. Stick your fingers in the flower beds, then rub them on the clean walls. Cover the stains with crayon. How does that look?
- Dressing small children is not as easy as it seems: first buy an octopus and a bag made out of loose mesh. Attempt to put the octopus into the bag so that none of the arms hang out. Time allowed for this: all morning.
- Take an egg carton - using a pair of scissors and a pot of paint, turn it into an alligator. Now take the tube from a roll of toilet paper. Using only scotch-tape and a piece of foil, turn it into an attractive Christmas candle. Last, take a milk carton, a ping-pong ball, and an empty packet of Cocoa Pops and make an exact replica of the Eiffel Tower. Congratulations! You have just qualified for a place on the play group committee.
Forget the BMW and buy a mini-van. And don't think that you can leave it out in the driveway spotless and shining. Family cars don't look like that. Buy a chocolate ice cream cone and put it in the glove compartment. Leave it there. Get a dime. Stick it in the cassette player. Take a family-sized package of chocolate cookies. Mash them into the back seats. Run a garden rake along both sids of the car. There. Perfect.
- Get ready to go out. Wait outside the bathroom for half an hour. Go out the front door. Come in again. Go out. Come back in. Go out again. Walk down the front path. Walk back up it. Walk down it again. Walk very slowly down the road for 5 minutes. Stop to inspect minutely every cigarette butt, piece of used chewing gum, dirty tissue, and dead insect along the way. Retrace your steps. Scream that you've had as much as you can stand until the neighbors come out and stare at you. Give up and go back in to the house. You are now just about ready to try taking a small child for a walk.
- Always repeat everything you say at least five times.
- Go to your local supermarket. Take with you the nearest thing you can find to a preschool child - a full-grown goat is excellent. If you intend to have more than one child, take more than one goat. Buy your week's groceries without letting the goats out of your sight. Pay for everything the goats eat or destroy. Until you can easily accomplish this, do not even contemplate having children.
- Hollow out a melon. Make a small hole in the side. Suspend it from the ceiling and swing it from side to side. Now get a bowl of soggy Cheerios and attempt to spoon them into the swaying melon by pretending to be an airplane. Continue until half the Cheerios are gone. Tip the rest into your lap, making sure that a lot of it falls on the floor. You are now ready to feed a 12-month old baby.
- Learn the names of every character from Sesame Street, Barney, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. When you find yourself singing "I love you/You love me" at work, you qualify as a parent.
I am hereby officially tendering my resignation as an adult. I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of an 8 year-old again. I want to go to McDonald's and think it's a four star restaurant. I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make a sidewalk with rocks.
I want to think M&M's are better than money because you can eat them, and I want to eat the whole bag without having to worry about fat, calories, etc...etc.
I want to lie under a big oak tree and run a lemonade stand with my friends on a hot summer day.
I want to return to a time when life was simple. When all you knew were colors, multiplication tables, and nursery rhymes, but that didn't bother you, because you didn't know what you didn't know and you didn't care.
All you knew was to be happy because you were blissfully unaware of all the things that should make you worried or upset.
I want to think the world is fair. That everyone is honest and good. I want to believe that anything is possible. I want to be oblivious to the complexities of life and be overly excited by the little things again.
I want to live a simple life again. I don't want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive more days in the month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip, illness, and loss of loved ones.
I want to believe in the power of smiles, hugs, a kind word, truth, justice peace, dreams, imagination, mankind, and making angels in the snow.
So...here's my checkbook and my car-keys, my credit card bills and my 401K statements. I am officially resigning from adulthood.
And if you want to discuss this further, you'll have to catch me first, cause....
"Tag! You're it."
The Birth Order of Children:
1st baby: You begin wearing maternity clothes as
soon as your OB/GYN confirms your pregnancy.
2nd baby: You wear your regular clothes for as long as possible.
3rd baby Your maternity clothes ARE your regular clothes.
Preparing for the Birth:
1st baby: You practice your breathing religiously.
2nd baby: You don't bother because you remember that last time, breathing didn't do a thing.
3rd baby: You ask for an epidural in your eighth month.
1st baby: You pre-wash newborn's clothes,
color-coordinate them, and fold them neatly in the baby's little bureau.
2nd baby: You check to make sure that the clothes are clean and discard only the ones with the darkest stains.
3rd baby: Boys can wear pink, can't they?
1st baby: At the first sign of distress--a whimper,a frown--you pick up the baby.
2nd baby: You pick the baby up when her wails threaten to wake your firstborn.
3rd baby: You teach your three-year-old how to rewind the mechanical swing.
1st baby: If the pacifier falls on the floor, you put it away until you can go home and wash and boil it.
2nd baby: When the pacifier falls on the floor, you squirt it off with some juice from the baby's bottle.
3rd baby: You wipe it off on your shirt and pop it back in.
1st baby: You change your baby's diapers every hour, whether they need it or not
2nd baby: You change their diaper every two to three hours, if needed.
3rd baby: You try to change their diaper before others start to complain about the smell or you see it sagging to their knees.
1st baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics,Baby Swing,and Baby Story Hour.
2nd baby: You take your infant to Baby Gymnastics.
3rd baby: You take your infant to the supermarket and the dry cleaner.
1st baby: The first time you leave your baby with a sitter, you call home five times.
2nd baby: Just before you walk out the door, you remember to leave a number where you can be reached.
3rd baby: You leave instructions for the sitter to call only if she sees blood.
1st baby: You spend a good bit of every day just gazing at the baby.
2nd baby: You spend a bit of everyday watching to be sure your older child isn't squeezing, poking, or hitting the baby.
3rd baby: You spend a little bit of every day hiding from the children.
Swallowing Coins (a favorite):
1st child: When first child swallows a coin, you rush the child to the hospital and demand x-rays.
2nd child: When second child swallows a coin, you carefully watch for the coin to pass.
3rd child: When third child swallows a coin you deduct it from his allowance!!
My little boy came into the kitchen this evening while I was fixing supper. And he handed me a piece of paper he’d been writing on. So, after wiping my hands on my apron, I read it, and this is what it said:
For mowing the grass, $5.-
For making my own bed this week, $1.-
For going to the store $.50
For playing with baby brother while you went shopping, $.25
For taking out the trash, $1.-
For getting a good report card, $5.-
And for raking the yard, $2.-
Well, I looked at him standing there expectantly, and a thousand memories flashed through my mind. So, I picked up the paper, and turning it over, this is what I wrote:
For the nine months I carried you, growing inside me, No Charge
For the nights I sat up with you, doctored you, prayed for you, No Charge
For the time and the tears, and the cost through the years, No Charge
For advice and the knowledge, and the cost of your college, No Charge
For the toys, food and clothes, and for wiping your nose, No Charge
Son, when you add it all up, the full cost of my love is, NO Charge
Well, when he finished reading, he had great big tears in his eyes. And he looked up at me and he said, “Mama, I sure do love you.” Then he took the pen and in great big letters he wrote, Paid in Full.
The government recently calculated the cost of raising a child from birth to 18 and came up with $160,140 for a middle income family. Talk about sticker shock! That doesn't even touch college tuition. But $160,140 isn't so bad if you break it down.
It translates into:
* $8,896.66 a year
* $741.38 a month, or
* $171.08 a week.
* That's a mere $24.24 a day!
* Just over a dollar an hour.
Still, you might think the best financial advice is don't have children if you want to be "rich." Actually, it is just the opposite.
What do you get for your $160,140?
* Naming rights. First, middle, and last!
* Glimpses of God every day.
* Giggles under the covers every night.
* More love than your heart can hold.
* Butterfly kisses and Velcro hugs.
* Endless wonder over rocks, ants, clouds, and warm cookies.
* A hand to hold, usually covered with jelly or chocolate.
* A partner for blowing bubbles, flying kites
* Someone to laugh yourself silly with, no matter what the boss said or how your stocks performed that day.
For $160,140, you never have to grow up. You get to:
* carve pumpkins
* play hide-and-seek
* catch lightning bugs, and
* never stop believing in Santa Claus.
You have an excuse to:
* keep reading the Adventures of Piglet and Pooh
* watching Saturday morning cartoons
* going to Disney movies, and
* wishing on stars.
* You get to frame rainbows, hearts, and flowers under refrigerator magnets and collect spray painted noodle wreaths for Christmas, hand prints set in clay for Mother's Day, and cards with backward letters for Father's Day.
For $160,140, there is no greater bang for your buck. You get to be a hero just for:
* retrieving a Frisbee off the garage roof
* taking the training wheels off a bike
* removing a splinter
* filling a wading pool
* coaxing a wad of gum out of bangs, and coaching a baseball team that never wins but always gets treated to ice cream regardless.
You get a front row seat to history to witness the:
* first step
* first word
* first bra
* first date
* first time behind the wheel.
You get to be immortal. You get another branch added to your family tree, and if you're lucky, a long list of limbs in your obituary called grandchildren and great grandchildren. You get an education in psychology, nursing, criminal justice,communications, and human sexuality that no college can match. In the eyes of a child, you rank right up there under God. You have all the power to heal a boo-boo, scare away the monsters under the bed, patch a broken heart, police a slumber party, ground them forever, and love them without limits, So . . one day they will like you, love without counting the cost. That is quite a deal
for the price!!!!!!!