I was on a bus recently and we were stopped outside a walk-in clinic. A little girl in the seat in front of me turned to her dad and said, “Death is the poor man's doctor.” And that was that.
“There are three dead kids buried in our back yard. They told me where we can find them.”
Once I was taking a nap on the couch. I was waking up, and just as I’m opening my eyes, I see my 2 year-old son walking toward me with a serious look on his face. He leans in close and whispers, “It happened.” He then leaves without another word.
My 4-year-old daughter sings “Old McDonald Had A Farm.” But she ends it with “And I eat them all.”
I was reading a story to my daughter when she suddenly slammed it shut, pointed to the empty doorway, and screamed “You get out of here! You’ve killed enough people!”
My son (about 6) asked my mother to lay down on her stomach, then he sat on her butt and started bouncing up and down and proclaimed, “Now we're mating like reptiles!”
“Mom, why is that lady from the cemetery sitting in my room?”
My five year old has stuck to this SAME story since he was 3: “I remember my last mom and dad died and you found me, remember, I was on the side of the road when you found me as a baby. I had a little sister before but she’s dead too.”
My first son at three years old, as he was falling asleep in the car: “Last time, I died in a fire.”