It's okay that my kid's friend's parents aren't my friends

My kids have some funny friends. I love having them here and I love when they take the time to have a little chit chat with me. We have so many weird little conversations on the fly! Such great kids. All of 'em.

I know my kid’s friend’s parents. All of them! We are friendly, but for the most part, we are not friends. We don’t have to be friends for our kids to be friends, right? But I do wonder if it's because they just don't like me much. I get a very weird vibe from a lot of them. Honestly, I wouldn't blame them if they didn't like me and I do wonder if some of the conversations I have with their kids have anything to do with the "back off psycho" vibe I get whenever we see each other.

KF= Kid's friend

Me = Me

KF:  Mrs. Knepper, can you get me some lemonade?
ME: You practically live here, kid. Get it yourself.
KF: Okay. I’m going to get some cookies too.
ME: Don’t take my gluten free cookies or I will break your fingers.
KF: Ha-ha! Very funny.
ME: It ain’t no joke. Notouchymycookieoryoudie-y.
KF: I’d like to see you try it.
ME: Ha-ha. Very funny.
KF: It ain’t no joke.
ME: I really enjoy exchanging threats with you.
KF: Me too, Mrs. Knepper. Me too.

ME: You guys want some strawberries?
KF: My mom makes me eat a banana everyday.
ME: How come? Do you have loose stools?
KF: What’s a loose stool?
ME: Runny poo. Bananas make your poo firm, too many can make you constipated!
KF: Well THAT explains it.

KF: I’m not allowed to play with toy guns or toys weapons.
ME: So don’t play with them.
KF: But everyone else is.
ME: I don’t know what to tell you, kid.
KF: Tell me that you won’t tell my mom I’m playing with toy guys.
ME: Ok. I won’t tell your mom you are playing with toy guns.

KF: Mrs. Knepper, my mom doesn’t really like you.
ME: Bet she told you not to tell me that, huh?
KF: Yep. But I thought you should know.

KF: I love it here. I wish I lived here.
ME: Well, we love having you, but what’s wrong with your house?
KF: My mom makes us keep things clean. I like the mess here.

KF: My mom says you write books with swears.
ME: I do. I write a blog with swears too.
KF: I want to say some swears, can I?
ME: Yep. Let ‘er rip, kid. I won’t tell anyone.
KF: SHIT FUCK CRAP STUPID ASS DAMN BITCH!
ME: Fun, huh? Feels like farting, total relief just getting it all out.
KF: It felt way better than farting. Thanks, Mrs. Knepper.

KF: Seriously, Mrs. Knepper, do you ever shower?
ME: Why, do I stink?
KF: I don’t smell anything, but you look, well, dirty.
ME: Does that bother you?
KF: No, I guess not, but you should maybe change your clothes sometimes.

Epic bed head, Motherfuckers!

Epic bed head, Motherfuckers!

KF: Why don’t you guys go to church?
ME: Why do you want to know?
KF: I’m just curious. You should go.
ME: Why should we go to church?
KF: To clean out your hell.
ME: Our hell?
KF: Oh yeah, you have a lot of hell here.

KF: Your car is always a disaster.
ME: Thanks for noticing.
KF: Does it bother you?
ME: Nope. Does it bother you? Because you can walk your ass home, you know? Want a cookie?
KF: Doesn’t bother me. You keep cookies in the car?
ME: As a general rule, no, but there are here so…
KF: Whose socks are those?
ME: Do you want a cookie or not?
KF: Mmmmm…thin mints! Thanks for the ride!

Those socks are mine.

Those socks are mine.

KF: I read your book.
ME: Oh! Did you like it? Wait, why were you reading my book?
KF: I did. I really did. It was funny, a little awkward but…
ME: Oh, yeah, that chapter called “Shut The Fuck Up,” right?
KF: Yep.
ME: Well, it’s not book for kids, so I guess your discomfort is your problem, Dude.
KF: Well, my mom bought it and didn’t like it and it was just sitting there so…I did like it though. You are funny, Mrs. Knepper.
ME: Well then, thanks for the support I guess.

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