What we sometimes see as annoying, incessant questions from a child may be a plea for recognition. Maybe they do not need an answer as much as attention.
Fiction is overrated, Fly. We’ve discussed this. In the time it takes those novelist fuckers to contemplate a few poetic passages, a thousand kids die from malnutrition. Immediacy, man, that’s what counts.
When I was a wee little kid," remarked Roic, watching over their shoulders, "there was a time I thought that any skinny old man I saw was my grandfather. It was pretty confusing.
Even Cronus, the Titan who literally had his kids for breakfast, would find these facts hard to swallow.
I just find it interesting that kids apparently used to cry when Bambi's mother died. George and I both held our breaths, and then cheered when she didn't reanimate and try to eat her son.
Be nice to her,” I muttered under my breath. “She’s my sister; she got sick. She lost her kid. For all I know, she may have eaten her.
Did you notice there aren’t any average kids anymore—only Gifted and Disposable?
I'm never going to live this down. I will forever be known as the pastor's kid who got arrested, made friends in jail, and threw up on the singles camping trip. That will look great on a resume.
I don’t even get the term, “the birds and the bees”. How does that properly teach a kid about sex? You never see a pigeon railing a dove or a honey bee sticking it to a bumble bee.
...when I was a kid, Toronto streets were deserted and quiet on Sundays, except for the sound of church bells I stood on the sidewalk one December listening to the Christmas bells - I've never forgotten that moment...
There is only one thing in this world shittier than biting it from cancer when you're sixteen, and that's having a kid who bites it from cancer.
She wore heavy sandals, with socks. No kid in the entire state of Mississippi wore black socks in the summer. Shoot, if I wasn't standing smack-dab in the middle of the library, I wouldn't be wearing shoes.
No child is born a delinquent. They only became that way if nobody loved them when they were kids. Unloved children grow up to be serial murderers or alcoholics.
Ever been in a spelling bee as a kid? That snowy second after the announcement of the word as you sift your brain to see if you can spell it? It was like that, the blank panic.
All the kids from daycare are in dreamland. The froggie has made his last leap. Hell no you can't go to the bathroom. You know where you can go? The f**k to sleep.
If you slave away every day at a job you hate and come home drained and frustrated, what is that teaching your kids?
Racism, Dr. Sam. I worry for my kids about racism. Racism doesn't appear to take holidays or time off. What can I do about this stuff?
Hazel frowned. "Why that one?" "You don't see the ghost?" Frank asked. "Ghost?" Nico asked. Okay... if Frank was seeing a ghost that the Underworld kids couldn't see, something was definitely wrong.
I lean back on the pillows and look at the corners of the room. When I was a kid, I always wanted to live on the ceiling - it looked so clean and uncluttered, like the top of a cake.
You know when I told you the joke about how a friend will help you move, but a real friend will help you move a body? I was only kidding.
Kid's little binges, his forays into intoxication were affecting everyone now. They were affecting their goals and dreams. They were affecting Natasha. She was probably drinking just to deal with him.
