#child

If you would have a boy to despise his mother, let her keep him at home, and spend her life in petting him up, and slaving to indulge his follies and caprices. ↗

— Anne Brontë

#contempt #mother #over-indulgence #upbringing #home

What must I do now?” Mrs. Muller considered her silently for a while. “You are still a child. You must go where you are told and do as you are told. But it won’t always be so. Soon you will be in charge of yourself. Until that time: Be aware. Listen. Look. Touch. Smell. And remember. But for now, you must go home. ↗

— Masha du Toit

#children #do-as-you-re-told #growing-up #home

I know that big people don't like questions from children. They can ask all the questions they like, How's school? Are you a good boy? Did you say your prayers? but if you ask them did they say their prayers you might be hit on the head. ↗

— Frank McCourt

#humor #humor

The only bright spot in the entire evening was the presence of Kevin "Tubby" Matchwell, the eleven-year-old porker who tackled the role of Santa with a beguiling authenticity. The false beard tended to muffle his speech, but they could hear his chafing thighs all the way to the North Pole. ↗

— David Sedaris

#christmas #humor #santa #humor

When I was a kid we played cowboys and Indians, and I always wanted to be an Indian when I grew up. ↗

— Ville Valo

#cowboys-and-indians #games #grow #humor #pursue

Don't you make fun of me or my children! Some babies are premature. Mine were all postmature. That's why they're so smart. Their brains had longer to develop. ↗

— Jeannette Walls

#humor #humor

Never proscribe a child’s vitality – prescribe it. ↗

— Bauvard

#funny #humor #medication #funny

once ruffle-skirted vanity table where I primped at thirteen, opening drawers to a private chaos of eyeshadows lavender teal sky-blue, swarms of hair pins pony tail fasteners, stashes of powders, colonies of tiny lipsticks (p.39) ↗

— Barbara Blatner

#colon-cancer #death #death-and-dying #death-and-sickness #death-at-home

...If I ever got sloppy and maudlin, it would be for the streets of my childhood—but no self- respecting writer should ever eulogize a slum... ↗

— John Geddes

#eulogy #maudlin #muse #slum #streets

Sometimes when you pick up your child you can feel the map of your own bones beneath your hands, or smell the scent of your skin in the nape of his neck. This is the most extraordinary thing about motherhood - finding a piece of yourself separate and apart that all the same you could not live without. ↗

— Jodi Picoult

#child