28 Hilarious Things Toddlers Said, As Shared By Our Community

Recently shaved my beard off after 10 years.
7yo: “DAD! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!?!?!”
Me: “What? This is how I looked when I married your mum.”
7yo: “WHY DID SHE MARRY YOU?!?!?!”
Ouch.

I was watching my niece (two at the time) one day, and I sneezed. She yelled out, “Godzilla!” I turned to her and said, “What?” She said, “Godzilla,” then looked at me like I was crazy for not knowing that’s what you say when someone sneezes. I asked her mom about it, and she said she didn’t know where it came from—she just started saying it one day. So now, 30 years later, if someone sneezes around me, I say, “Godzilla.”

When my son was about four, we decided to have people over for dinner. My husband’s favorite dish to make was a salad with octopus. My son couldn’t say “octopus” properly because of the lisp on the “s,” so we called it tentacle salad.
We had a few couples milling around the house while my husband and I were prepping appetizers. In walks my son, sees the salad, and then runs around yelling, “Hey — we’re going to have testicle salad!”
While that would normally be funny on its own, the real problem was that my husband and I were already known for being experimental with food. It took a little convincing to assure everyone that there were no actual testicles in the salad.

“When I grow up, I’m not going to have a husband. I’m going to be a widow.”

Back when I was a high school teacher, I had many beautiful kids, and some not so much, but I loved them all anyway! Two pertinent points here: I have always struggled with my weight, and I like wearing dark colours, especially black. I just feel good in it. One day, one of my kids asked me in class, “Miss ******, why do you wear black so much?” My joking reply was, “Because black is slimming!” The kid looked me up and down, shaking his head in sympathy. “It’s not working, Miss ****.” Class laughter, me included. (I knew the kid well enough to know that his intent wasn’t malicious, and he knew me well enough to know that I never held grudges and that I loved wittiness.)

A couple of years ago, I was riding the bus late at night. It was packed with commuters heading home.
I was sitting behind a young mother, and her son—maybe six or seven—was kneeling on his seat, facing me, and staring intently.
I took it with humor, since I’d had a good day and was in a good mood, so I started making faces: sticking my tongue out, crossing my eyes, and twitching my nose.
The boy kept staring, stone-faced, for a moment, and then yelled at the top of his voice:
“MOOOOOM!! THE MISTER IN THE BACKSEAT IS MAKING FACES!!! HE’S GOING TO STAY LIKE THAT!! TELL HIM, MOM!!!”
I have never been redder in the face before or since…

My brother plays hockey, and one of the younger siblings and I were messing around one day. This was in a warmer rink, so I was wearing a tank top, and at one point, I lifted my arms.
He looked at me, shocked, and just goes, “WHAT’S THAT?” while pointing at my arms.
Now I’m confused, thinking there’s something on me, so I lift my arms to look. He jams his finger into my armpit and goes, “WHY IS IT SO HAIRY?”
“Because I’m a mammal, buddy. I have body hair.”
“Well, you shouldn’t. It’s weird.”
He’s young, so hopefully he’ll learn eventually, but it was really funny.

My nephew—my brother’s son, now 31—when he was about six: I said to my family, “You can really see his mother’s genes in him” (because of his blond hair, height, and blue eyes). He heard me and got so upset that he said, “No, Aunty, you’re lying! These are my jeans! I was there at the shop when we bought them! I’m not wearing Mum’s jeans, I’m not!”—stamping his foot in a full tantrum.

Not to me, but my father. He was in the kitchen attempting to swat a very large and stubborn fly and failing miserably. He had a rolled-up newspaper in his hand and, in one wild swipe, knocked down and broke the toaster, hurting his hand in the process.
My little brother and I came running down.
“What was that?” I asked. My father replied, sheepishly…
“I was trying to k**l a fly…”
My little brother, age four, looked at the mess and asked:
“With the toaster?”
As I roared with laughter, my father tried to save face…
“Well, I got it!”
My little brother, without missing a beat, just replied:
“Yeah. Also the toaster.”

My niece once asked me why I had strawberries on my face. I have really bad acne, and she was four at the time.

As an incentive to get my young son to tidy away his toys, I promised him that if he did it for ten days in a row, he could choose anything he wanted from the Two Dollar Shop (so called for obvious reasons).
“Anything?” he asked.
I agreed.
“Wow!” he replied. “But, Mum, I won’t choose anything too expensive.”

A few years ago, my nephew, who was six at the time, saw me drawing a skull. He then asked if I drew skulls over and over again until my room looked like a t*****e chamber. I nearly fell off the couch laughing.

Our little girl, 10, was having a tantrum over something mundane, as kids do. And she said, “You’re weak… you’re as weak as a… you’re as weak as a pigeon!”
My wife and I still laugh about how we are apparently as weak as pigeons.

We’re not a religious family. But someone gave us cookies for Easter once, shaped like bunnies, eggs, and crosses. My youngest was five at the time, and she asked about the shapes. I think we said something like they were swords, and she replied, “No, they aren’t, they’re crosses.”
I asked her if she knew what a cross was, and she said, “Yes, it’s a big wooden thing that you put people on.”
I mean… she’s not wrong.

My daughter, when she was five, out of nowhere asked me, “Mommy, when you die, can I have your bras?”

When my nephew was little—around four years old—he got new shoes that lit up. Excited, he told my husband and dragged him to a closet so he could show them off. They got to the closet, and my nephew ran inside, closing the door with my husband outside.
“See, Uncle? They light up!”
My husband laughed and said, “Oh, that is so cool! They’re great!”
When my brother-in-law came home, the same thing happened: my nephew ran into the closet, dad outside.
“See, Daddy? They light up!”
But, being the dad, my BIL said, “No, son, I can’t see them from out here.”
My nephew came out a little annoyed. “Well… Uncle could see them!”

"It's okay, no need to look for a bathroom anymore - I already peed myself."

When my daughter was five and in kindergarten, I asked her what she wanted to be when she grows up. Her answer: “Six.”

My daughter, when she was 3 (she’s 7 now). Anyway, despite doing our best not to curse around her, we did occasionally slip. One day she started saying WTF (the actual words). We explained it was a very bad thing and not to say it. After a few days, she said/asked, and I quote, “Mommy, I want to say WTF.” It was just the fact that she knew how to phrase it as a question so she could say it knowing I’d say no.

I was walking down the street and met a woman coming the other way. She had a toddler, maybe four years old. The kid gave me a big smile, waved, and said, “Hi, Grandpa!”