Showing posts with label Guest post by Gunner. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Guest post by Gunner. Show all posts

When Your Four Year Old Guest Posts

3.19.2014


'Sup boo thangs.

Ok so check it. The other day I woke up extra super early, like nine in the morning, and I've learned enough in my four short years not to wake the beast, so I tiptoed downstairs, quiet as a mouse and made myself a bowl of cereal: one bag of M&Ms I mean two and a half bags of M&Ms plus a little splash of milk and there you have it a breakfast of champions.

After I eated all my cereal, I decided I had to pee. So I went outside and let her fly off the deck patio. It was a nice morning, relaxing, the view was a'ight and for once, the neighbors weren't staring at me like I was some reject boxcar child or somefing. 

After I did my bidness, I decided I wanted to watch some cartoons, so I turned on South Park. Cartman is my fave, obviously, because of this episode, but also because he's extremely politically incorrect. I'm not even sure what that means, I've just heard mommy say it's what pays the bills around here and I love me some dolla dolla bills -- holla! -- so by default he's my favoritist.

After my morning slash afternoon cartoons, I decided I wanted a mommy, so I reluctantly shimmied the padlock on her bedroom door, bracing myself with my plastic Batman shield and face mask. I slowly pandered up to her bed, shaking like a leaf, thinking, "damn Gina! If something goes wrong, I can claim 'child prop!' and hopefully get sent to a non-mommy blogger home."

Except, no. Mommies who don't blog are weird. They are like, ashamed of their kids or somefing. I pooped three times today and wiped my own butt. And you better believe that is newsworthy!

But what happened next is the clincher. See, as I was inching closer and closer to mommy's side of the bed, I was just about to wang chung her ass when I spotted it.

It.

The cheetos. 

The cheetos!?! Under mommy's bed?! But! But! She said they were all gone! Blasphemy! The shame! The lies, all the lies, and the hurt and anger and disappointment that is now my life.

All those times I asked if I could have some cheetos with my flamin' hot cheeto puffs…

My life
has
been

one

big

lie.

That's it, I'm moving to grannies.

Sh*t My Kid Says

12.10.2013

 

Me: Gunner you need to stop eating so much crap. It will make you throw up. Remember that one time on the boat when you ate too much crap and threw up all over daddy?
Gunner: No. Can you show me a picture of me throwing up all over daddy?
Me: I didn't take a picture of that.
Gunner: What?!?! You take pictures of everything!!

::After I picked Gunner up from school, and his teacher took me aside and said how Gunner had declared he was "going to work" and then walked over to her and...ahem...popped her ass.::
Me: Gunner. It is very inappropriate to pop your teachers ass. You can pop ass at home, but that's it. Everywhere else is off limits. Do you understand?
Gunner: Well what if teacher comes to our house? Can I pop her ass then?
Me: No.

Colt: Mom I want to play a game on your phone.
Me: No, not right now.
Colt: But mom I want to. You're playing a game on your phone.
Me: It's not a game it's Candy Crush and if you make me lose one more time I will orphan you.

Me: So Gunner tell me, what did you learn in school today?
Gunner: Nothing.
Me: Oh. Wow. Sounds pretty interesting.
Gunner: It wasn't interesting! I hate school!
Me: Ok then.
Gunner: I didn't learn about the planets and the earth and the solar system and teacher would only let me have one snack and I'm mad!
Me: I'm mad too. Starbucks was out of their spinach feta wraps. 

Colt: Mom I want some juice-y.
Me: No honey you've had enough juice-y for today.
Colt: Mommy I! Said! I! Want! Some! JUICE-Y!!!
Me: Then get a job and go buy your own juice-y!
Colt: No mom! I can't get a job 'cause I'm still a baby... {whimpers}
Me: Yes my little angel, you're right. Here. Drink the whole juice-y.

Gunner: Sometimes I don't like sharing my toys.
Me: Well, then you won't have many friends in life.
{short silence}
Gunner: Is that why-
Me: Go to your room! You're in timeout.

::When I was in a pinch to get Gunner dressed and out the door as we were way late for school::
Gunner: I hate this shirt! This is a girl shirt.
Me: No it's not, it's a unisex shirt.
Gunner: What is a unisex shirt?
Me: It means it's appropriate for both girls and boys.
Gunner: But it has a princess on it.
Me: That's not a princess. It's just a really pretty boy who grew his hair out long.
Gunner: He has boobs.

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Sh*t My Kid Says

11.19.2013


gunner: I hate these pink pants.
me: they aren't pink, they are light maroon.
gunner: huh? what is maroon?
me: maroon is an offset of pink. a distant cousin of sorts.
gunner: I hate these pink pants!

me: before I met daddy I lived in a house by myself.
gunner: you lived by yourself? you didn't have any friends?
me: I had friends but I lived alone.
gunner: oh. that's really sad.

as I was styling gunner's hair before school:
gunner: I don't want a mohawk.
me: too bad. you have to make yourself look presentable before you go places.
gunner: but you never make yourself look pretty before we go places?

colt: werkjdsf lfdv lzdfkgjubfdgh dkjebzx
me: what?
colt: oisdfb wiu fkjhsdbwe vkjzsd
me: what??
gunner: he said he wants some juice and a waffle.
me: oh. ok. thanks.

gunner: can we fly my kite today?
me: no, it's too windy.
the next day...
gunner: can we fly my kite today?
me: no, it's not windy enough.
gunner: mom now I think you are just being lazy.

colt: I'm mad at you!
me: that's ok.
colt: I don't like you!
me: that's ok too.
colt: I don't want you to be my mom!
me: haaaaaa!!! sucka you go boy! you go find someone else who wants to be your mom and tend to your snot nose and wipe your butt. good luck!

me: so gunner, what did you learn in school today?
gunner: I'm not telling you.
me: ok. so what was your snack today?
gunner: I'm not telling you.
me: ok. so we have to stop by Target and I don't want to hear a word out of you.
gunner: we learned about the republic of Mississippi and how many stars there are in the sky and I chose chocolate pudding as my snack now do I get to pick out at a toy?



Just a day in the life.



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An Open Letter To My Mom. Love, Gunner.

9.10.2013


Mommy dearest.

I hate to tell you, but I am not your little boy anymore. In fact, just yesterday I got out of bed and made myself bacon in the toaster. I know you don't like to be woken up before 11 so I took matters into my own hands. If that doesn't scream "I'm a grow-up now," I don't know what does! (ps. sorry that the fire truck woke you up prematurely. I'm not too familiar with outlets.)

  Oh, and by the way, I have officially decided to change my name to Gunner MacGyver Optimus Spongebob MileyGaGa Smith, but you can just call me Tinkerbell for short. "Tink" for short short.

I'm a very precocious child. I love learning and bugs and chicken nuggets and licking all your makeup brushes and lots of creepy crawlers, so when you said "hey Gunner, want to watch a movie about spiders?" I excitedly responded with "yes!" thinking we were in for some super awesome version of Charlotte's Web. Except what proceeded to happen was you put on that super scary "Arachnophobia" movie, and now I have nightmares, every single night, that Obama is my real daddy and he makes me give my toys away to the brat next door, who does nothing but sit on his ass all day and wait for the ice cream truck, and yes I realize this nightmare has nothing to do with spiders and more to do with snakes, but still. Scary is scary and that sh*t is scary!

I know mom that you want me to be what you call "fashion forward." I'm sorry for the big fight we got into on my first day of school, when you wanted me to wear those off-pink jeggings and I kicked and screamed and in the process accidentally deleted some of your iphone apps.

 I understand your frustration that maybe some of the other mommy bloggers won't think you are as cool as them but for the love of all things double stuffed (like oreos and when that one girl at my school comes looking extra "lady lumptious"), what the f*ck are you trying to do to me? And the hell with that fedora? I'm five years old mom, let me wear disney characters and mud flap girl tshirts.

Last but not least, next time you think it's "convenient" to put vodka in my sippy cup for your own personal use so it doesn't spill all over your ugly designer bag (seriously, dad should have splurged on new extensions for you instead), maybe you should cover the cartoon characters up with big black pirate skulls and maybe slap on a few green Mr. Yuk stickers so when I think it's water and take a huge chug when I'm parched, I don't almost die from choking and my lungs don't cave in from your complete neglect.

Then again,
that was pretty good.

Can I have some more?




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An I Confess Sesh: By Gunner

11.27.2012


Ok so here's the deal. I'm only four, obviously not old enough to get in a car and drive away forever from this madness that is my life, (but apparently old enough to know what a hangover is, side eye mom) however, I do have a few years of wisdom under my belt. I know my mom has come here a few times with her "I confess sesh" malarky, but now it's my turn. And I have a few confessions I would like to get off my back. 

Forgive me father for I have sinned*. 

I confess: I'm having major mommy issues. These days, I can't even recognize her. I go to bed with a blonde haired mommy and wake up to a black haired one. That shit is scary for a tyke my age! Bangs, no bangs, Snooki tan one day and Casper the next? Wtf mom? Can we say identity crisis? For the love...

I confess: Mommy tries to trick me into eating healthy by mixing spinach into my pusghetti. Who does she think I am anyway? I'm a little smarter then that, lady. How about I "trick" you into putting lemonade in your drink instead of vodka? See how well that works?

I confess: Listen up fellow four year olds, this one's for you: never, ever, under any circumstances, admit fault. If you have a dog? Blame the dog. A younger brother? Better yet. Even if she saw you? Blame it on the invisible friend you have been forced to create as a result of mommy's extreme insanity. Trust me, if your mommy is anything like mine? She'll give you a kiss and smile at your imaginary friend on the way out. 

I confess: Skittles are not m&m's. I repeat, skittles are not m&m's!

I confess: I'm really a bleeding heart liberal. I mean, free toys? Sign a half-pint up! But please, please don't tell my mommy. I'm scared that she will erase all my tivoed South Park episodes to make more room for Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew. You know how them republicans can be greedy selfish &#$^@%*#.

I confess: I honestly think that Dr. Phil is my real dad.

*and by sinned, I mean I ate one too many double 
stuff oreos and throwed up in my bed. Twice.

One more quick I confess: Mommy had to clean it all up. Twice! lol!

A Guest Post. By Gunner.

6.06.2012

Hey bishes! I'm here today guest posting because let's face it, this blog could use a little spicing up. While my mom is still crying into her wine glass over my little brothers haircut (it was months ago! get a life!) I'm gonna share with you a few nuggets of four year old wisdom. 

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yeah, I have pink toes. Gotta problem with it?

But first, let me introduce myself. My name is Gunner James Smith, but you can just call me The Big Gunz. My favorite food is chocolate pudding and if you try to get your hands in my snack pack, well, let's just say it didn't work out well for the last guy who tried.

That last guy being my brother.

He's now missing a finger, but shhhh....don't tell my mom.

Not like she would notice anyway. She's too busy "working" aka blogging and photoshopping herself so you all think she's some hot stuff or something.

Trust me sweeties, she does not look like that.

Talk about an optical illusion.

And she teaches me not to lie. Hypocrite.

You know how my mom always says we love to be naked? Well, that's true. But do I need her splashing those pictures all over the interwebs for all to see? No, no I do not. I'm eventually going to get a serious girlfriend (like in a year or two) and I don't need her googling me and seeing photo after photo of my nekked booty. So inappropriate, mom.

You know what else is inappropriate? My mom's bizarre obsession with Britney Spears. Really? How old are we again? Isn't she a little...immature for a grown woman with two kids to idolize? Grow up mom. You should listen to someone more age appropriate... like Barbara Streisand or Bette Midler.

I really wish I could watch Spongebob Squarepants, but my mom says it's the work of the devil. Oh yeah? I think you trying to shove that j.lo of yours into jeans two sizes too small is the work of the devil. I may be young, but I know what "muffin top" is and it ain't cute.

Speaking of muffins, did I mention that chocolate is my favorite food? My mom always tells me that "it's unhealthy to eat chocolate all day long" and that I can only have it "in moderation." So that's how it is? You really wanna go there? Because I also believe that drinking vodka "all day long" is unhealthy. BAM!

I think I'm gonna grow up and marry a liberal just to piss her off. 

Peace out sugartits