Broken Record

I’ve sat through a few soccer practices and games now. One of my son’s coaches has about three phrases she shouts repeatedly. She never varies from her set phrases, the intonation or the volume. At some point I catch myself  hoping a stray soccer ball might shut her up.

(Did I just say that?)

In all fairness, I started listening to myself today; what are my stock phrases?

I hereby proclaim myself guilty of uttering the following phrases more often in one week than the soccer coach utters hers in one game:

  • Milk at the table! (Or crayons/snack/paint–whatever the kid is trailing across the room.)
  • It will taste the same, no matter what color your plate is.
  • Books are for reading, not eating.
  • Be nice to your brother.
  • How about you sing in a pretty voice?
  • You’re going to fall down.
  • Who’s stinky?
  • No screaming, please.
  • In the water! In the water! That’s the wall!
  • Shut the door. Shut the door. Shut the door. SHUT. THE. DOOR.
  • Hang it up.
  • Where does that belong?
  • You got down; you’re done.
  • Where did you have it last?
  • I’d look in all the same places you would.
  • The bathroom is not a place to play.
  • The fridge is not a place to play.
  • That’s an inside toy.
  • Go potty first.
  • Just try it.
  • I knew you could do it.
  • Just a minute.
  • Hold on.
  • Wow….
  • I don’t know; I didn’t wear your shoes. (Socks, cleats, coat, etc.)
  • Food. (In response to the question: What’s for dinner/lunch/snack? They hate this one.)
  • Good food. (In response to the question: What kind of food?)
  • Really good food. (You can guess this one.)

12 responses to “Broken Record

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