Editor's Note: Although parenting is mostly a joyous affair, it can also be a banal and thankless chore. The only way to get through those low moments is to maintain a sense of humor and grow through laughter. Sometimes we need a reason to laugh, and these parents have reminded us it's okay to lighten up. 

For the purpose of preserving the author's unique voice and style, the following articles have been edited for grammar and mechanics only. ~ Lis Garrett

by Meg Coldwells

Here in California, they finally passed the new “Hands-Free” cell phone law this past July.  We knew it was coming, but like most people I know I waited until the last minute to get my Bluetooth headset for the BlackBerry. 

I had a little trouble getting one that was just the right fit, wouldn’t fall off my ear, and would allow me to actually hear and place a call.  I was constantly fidgeting with it.  I am sure you can relate. 

During this time, I never gave a second thought to the fact that my little 3-year-old sponge was observing, processing, and downloading all that I was going through (my foibles) . . . until one day, as he was going about his toddler business, playing with his favorite cars and airplanes, when I announced, “Time to clean up the toys! We have to leave for school in 5 minutes.” 

He replied, “Is it show and tell day?” 

“No,” I said. “Show-and-Tell is Friday, and today is Tuesday.” 

He countered “I’m gonna call Ms. Nancy,” his teacher, as if he did not believe me. I was thinking, he doesn’t know her phone number or how to dial the phone, so I am safe.  Let’s just get a move on. 

I heard him talking as I walked away, “Uh, hi Ms. Nancy. Uh, today is show and tell day?  I bring my airplanes and cars? OK. OK. Uh-huh. Okay. Bye.” 

“MOM!, Ms. Nancy said it is ‘OK.’” 

Since I had turned around just as I heard him start talking, I had watched his entire performance, and I could hardly contain myself.  He had stuck his index finger in his ear, jiggled it around, (guess where THAT came from?) and proceeded to talk as if he was having a telephone conversation, finger firmly implanted in ear canal. 

I said “Reeeeeally? What else did she say?” 

He replied,  “Nuffing.” 

This has become his “go to” behavior when he doesn’t get the answer he wants from me or I am not quick enough to answer his question.  For example, driving home from preschool, he projects from the backseat that he wants to go to Blockbuster and get some Calliou movies.  I remind him that we have just been there a few days ago and he has already seen all the Calliou movies they have.  As I focus my attention to the road, I hear him “finger dialing” from he backseat: 

“Helwoah BlockBusta? You got some new Calliou movies there for me? Um, ah-huh, OK. Fank you. Bye Bye.” Then he shouts, “Mom! They have new movies for me at BlockBusta. I called.” 

I am in the driver’s seat watching him in the rearview mirror, ever so proud of himself. And I am thinking, Gotta give him some credit. He goes after what he wants!  But no, BlockBuster is not happening on the way home. 

What absolutely slays me is he will pull that finger phone out anytime, anywhere and is not the least bit self-conscious about it.  We can be in the grocery store and he will ask me if Daddy is coming home for dinner.  If I answer that I don’t know, I have not talked to Daddy this afternoon about that, immediately he is finger-dialing Daddy at the office.  “Helwoah Daddy. You be home for dinner tonight?  I at the grocery market. Uh huh, uh huh. OK. Wuv you, Dad. Bye!”  And then he will give me this look like he is cluing me in and say, “Hey Mom, Dad is coming for dinner.  I just called him.” 

And without missing a beat, he is on to the next topic of conversation.  He totally falls for his own shtick and expects that I am buying into it, too.   

I love watching his imagination at work, and I have had more than a few belly laughs over some of the conversations he has had! 

Who knows? Maybe he is on to something.  I mean, look how far technology has come from our first cell phones (the bricks). By the time he is of age to require a REAL cell phone, perhaps all he will have to do is “channel” that person to have a conversation!   Stranger things have happened!

Meg Coldwells is an adoption coach and mom of a toddler son.  She is an avid photographer with a specialty in children’s portraits.  Becoming a parent has been a dream-come-true for her, and helping others to achieve that same dream is the icing on her cake. You can reach her on her blog, follow her on Twittermoms, or email her at meg@myadoptioncoach.com.  

image courtesy Meg Coldwells

by Debbie Yost

I was never one for breaking rules growing up, but I had an occasion or two when I tried. One such occurrence happened in high school when I tried to beat curfew with my friend and our dates. The plan started off smoothly enough. I asked my mom if I could stay the night at my friend’s house. I left out the detail about us going out on a double date. She agreed, so my friend and our dates went to a drive-in movie. After the movie, we went back to my friend’s house.  

This is where the plan began to fall apart. My date and I decided to go parking for a little while. Nothing serious, but we did get caught by the police. It’s always fun to have a light shined on you when you’re making out. My date took me back to my friend’s house only to discover she had gone inside and turned off the lights. My date left and there I sat, in the middle of the night with no where to go. 

Luckily, I lived a couple blocks from my friend. However, I couldn’t just walk into my house several hours past my curfew. So I put a new plan in action. I snuck into my backyard and slept on a lawn chair for a couple hours. I then got up early and walked around the block back towards my friend’s house. My parents are early risers so I had to be very careful not to be seen. Once I circled around the block I headed back home. I had my story all planned and would just tell my mom I decided to come home early.  

As I walked in the front door, my mom was up as expected. I gave her my lame excuse and she listened. I thought I’d pulled it off until she asked one simple question, “So, how late did you stay out past curfew?” All my plans to get away with breaking curfew, stating I was just staying the night at a friends, and she knew all along what I was up to. My only saving grace was she didn’t know all the details of the night’s events, but knowing she saw through my plans was enough for me. I never asked to stay the night at a friend’s house again. It just wasn’t worth it! 

When I talked to my friend later that day, she asked what happened to me. She told me she had left the front door unlocked so I could come in when I got back.  

It’s taken a few years to find the humor in this night of blunders. I only hope one day I will have the same parental insight as my mom when my girls try to pull one over on me.

Debbie Yost and her husband live in the Kansas City area and have three daughters, ages 12, 6 and 3. Debbie’s youngest daughter has Down syndrome. Because of her daughter, Debbie has become an advocate for people with Down syndrome to ensure they have the same opportunities to live a full and rewarding life as others. Debbie writes about mothering, family life and Down syndrome awareness on her blog Three Weddings.

by Lauren Loiacono

Once when my son, Owen, was 3 years old, he was sitting next to my father at the kitchen table.  My dad was wearing shorts since it was a hot summer day.  Owen got very quiet and kept looking back and forth between my dad's legs and his bald head.  Then, very pensively, he said, "Grandpa, you have no hair on your head.  Your really should take some hair off of your legs and put it on your head!"

Lauren is the mother of 4-year-old twins, Emma and Owen, and 1-year-old Savannah.

by Farmer's Wife

My husband is a “balding” farmer.  It’s partly due to the constant wearing of a cap on hot sweaty days and partly due to heredity.  He used to fight it, although I finally convinced him to give in and get the #1 buzz or whatever is the next-to-nothing cut at the barber. 

My son is just like his daddy.  His nickname is Farmer, Jr., because he is the epitome of his daddy, only smaller.  One day recently, I was on the phone with a friend while the kids were “quietly” entertaining themselves.  That should have immediately been a key that something was awry.  Children?  Quiet?  While Mommy is on the phone?  No. Not normal. 

As I was hanging up from my conversation, my son entered the room and approached me with a request.  Now, I have no clue what he asked me because I was stunned to see his head of hair had been tampered with.  He appeared to have suddenly developed a case of mange.  This is not good. 

I inquire, “Son!?  What happened to your hair?”  Son grabs his head, slightly panics, and replies, “I’m afraid you’ll be mad.”  I wasn’t mad.  I was concerned as to what tool was used to cause this issue.  Scissors?  A razor?  Gasp! 

“I will find the remnants of this event on my own if you don’t tell me.”  He takes me to the victimized tuffs of hair and the children’s scissors that did the damage.  

“Son?  What is the rule about scissors and hair?” 

“The barber or the hair dresser cuts our hair only.” 

“If you know the rule, then what were you thinking?”

“I wanted to look like Daddy, and Daddy doesn’t have hair.” 

In a complete fit of laughter!  After wiping the joyful tears from my eyes and picking myself up from the floor, I find some composure. 

“Son, Daddy doesn’t have hair because he’s older.  It’s a part of aging…and stress.  And, Daddy is like Papa, who also doesn’t have a whole lot of hair.  Sweetie?  You are a little boy and little boys are supposed to have hair.  Daddy only wishes he had hair.” 

“Oh.  Daddy wants hair?” 

“Yes, Daddy wants hair.” 

Since I’m squealing on my little Farmer, Jr., I must be fair and share one about my daughter too.  She’s known around here by many nicknames but “Little Gal” seems to embody her personality. 

One evening, my husband was out at a meeting with some fellow farmers, you know, catching up on the “Farm Report.” Yeah, right.   So dinner had been served and the three of us - my son, my daughter and myself - sit down to dinner.  

We begin to have some family conversation about what we did in school today, and what we learned and who did what on the playground.  Suddenly, Little Gal begins to sing. Did I mention that she loves to sing?  Well, she does.  So she begins singing at the top of her voice, and proudly. 

This is what she serenaded us with, at dinner.  Hum along if you like.  It’s to the tune of,  “A Bicycle Built for Two.” 

NEVER, neeee-ver, never pick your boogers.

Up your NOSTRIL, is NOT where your finger goes!

Don't pick yourself -- a winner,

'Cuz boogers aren't -- for dinner.

So, don't get caught,

With your finger UP your nose! 

Apparently, her teacher was having a little issue in this department with some of the Pre-K population. This song was her tool to divert the fingers from their destination of choice.

Not exactly dinner music.  Still, it’s catchy!

Farmer's Wife is a Glass Half Full Gal.