The Devil Wears Carters

August 28, 2014 — 56 Comments

the omen final edited

When Little Dude was a toddler, he was a real asshole. I took notes that I kept meaning to turn into a book, but I could never write.
He was too much of an asshole.

I’ve decided to turn them into a series of blog posts, “The Devil Wears Carters.” Here is the first in the series.


Little Dude had a speech delay. He didn’t talk until he was 27 months old. The irony is, he doesn’t shut up now for a minute. This kid talks from the second he wakes up, until the second he lays down to go to sleep. At 3 years old, he kept a running commentary on every single thought he had in his head. And his head was jammed full of thoughts.

At 3, he never ever fucking ever stopped talking.

I did everything short of burying his face in an ether-soaked rag to shut him up. NOTHING worked.

We had “quiet contests.” Whoever could stay quiet the longest, won. He lost after 2 seconds. We played hide and seek. He’d hide and I’d sit and have a cup of coffee, relieved to be out of earshot for 5 minutes. I developed a mysterious bladder condition which caused me to have to urinate every half hour. I’d sit in the bathroom just trying to enjoy the silence, which was short-lived. He’d stand outside and yammer at me through the door.

He’s almost 11 and he still does that. I can’t even pee without him continuing to discuss his latest Minecraft adventure. I propose we bring back the Medieval torture, the Rack, for the inventor of Minecraft. I will personally turn the handle that dislocates every joint in that motherfucker’s body.

I’ve been through a lot, but I had never experienced anything as draining as the onslaught of preschool chatter he subjected me to, all day, every day. He fell asleep talking. In the morning, he’d pick up his story where he left it the night before, as though there hadn’t been a 10 hour span between sentences.

His stories SUCKED.

They were about things I didn’t care about, didn’t want to know about, and couldn’t understand even if I WANTED to know about them.

And he had not a CLUE about proper story telling, which, in fact, has a beginning, middle and end. His stories were just endless middles, leaving us stranded forever on the Desert Island of Incomprehension. Me, and my little story teller. Marooned captain of the “USS What The Fuck?”

He had to begin every story by saying my name. FOUR TIMES. Well, my Mommy name, as in “Mommy Mommy Mommy Mommy, I farted in my underwear.”

Was this a speech impediment? Was he having a stroke? Was this a chanting invocation to conjure Satan from his infernal abyss?

I read articles about excessively talkative children, desperate for a remedy as my brain atrophied daily. I tried to focus my glazed over eyes on articles about kids like my own, as I felt the cytoplasmic proteins in my brain slowly leak out my ass. One woman wrote that her children talked constantly, and she loved every minute of it.

Was she fucking deaf? I doubt it, because even Helen Keller would have been signing “STFU” to my kid after 10 minutes.


This is what a typical conversation with him was like. I was innocently trying to cut up a cantaloupe, and became engaged in a “steel cage battle of death/nobody gets out alive” conversation.

“Can I have some of that? What is it? Where did you get that from?”

“It’s cantaloupe. From the supermarket, sweetie.”

“Do we eat that part? Is that the skin? What is that?”

“It’s the rind. We don’t eat that.”

“Do we eat the seeds? No or yes?”

“No, we don’t eat the seeds.”

“Why not? Are they yucky or yummy?”

“They’re yucky.”

“Do Lenny and Stevie eat the seeds? No or yes?”

“No, honey.”

“Does Sammy?”

“No, nobody does.”

“I farted into my underwear.”

I didn’t answer because really, there was no question there.

“Am I gonna die?”


“If I eat the seeds, will I die?”

“No, you will not die.”

“What’s dying?”

“You close your eyes, and sleep for a long time.”

“Are you going to die?”

“Someday, when I’m old.”

“Are you old?”

“No, I am NOT old. Aunt Bobbie is old.”

“Did God make that cantaloupe?”

“Yes, God makes everything.”

“Did he make me?”


“Did he make you?”


“Did he make Daddy?”


“Did he make Daddy’s car?”

“Ye—Well, not really.”

“Why not really? No or yes?”

This kid would make a fantastic prosecutor.

“Well, cars are made in factories.”

“What’s a factory?”

“It’s a place that makes cars.”

“Did God make the factory?”

“No, people built the factory. God makes all living things.”

“What’s a living thing?”

“People, animals, plants…”

“Are poops living?”

“No. Yes. NO.”

“Does God have a pee pee?”

“Well, since he’s a boy, I would have to say yes.”

“Is his pee pee on the inside or the outside?”

“He has an outside pee pee.”

“Why is your pee pee on the inside?”

“It just is.”

“Can I see?”

“No, you can’t see!”

“I would like to see it right now, now, NOW.”

(well, take a number, dude).

“No, it’s private.”

“Is my pee pee private?”


“Daddy has hair on his pee pee, and his nipples are turning.”

WTF?? “All right, you lost me there.”

“Why are my boobies flat, and yours hang down?”

“They didn’t used to, you little fucker!”


“Look what Mommy’s got! M&Ms! Here – take the WHOLE BAG!”


The only time he stopped asking questions was when he was eating. And not even always then. It was unreal. The stuff that came out of his mouth you couldn’t make up if you tried.

First of all, my son, like most kids, repeated everything he heard, which we learned the hard way when he dropped a sippy cup and exclaimed, “Jesus Chwist!” We realized we had to have a total moratorium on cussing in our household, or else explain to his preschool teacher that he learned “motherfucker” at the babysitter’s. And he had an utterly charming way of putting words together in a tuneless and grating song, like “asshole, butthole, asshole, butthole” which he would sing incessantly around the house.

He also strung the most bizarre words and thoughts together.

“Mommy, can I make a pee-pee in your mouth?”

WHAT?!! My kid was either experimenting with words, or he was a total freak. And given who his parents are, I wasn’t so sure.

Once, we had the unfortunate luck to get in the elevator at the mall with an elderly woman in a wheel chair. She had some kind of respiratory tubes attached to her face. I prayed to all the Gods that he wouldn’t notice.

He noticed. Luckily, he waited until we were out of the elevator to announce, “Mommy, she has boogers in her nose. Is that machine sucking out the boogers?”

“No, it’s to help her breathe.”


“Well, she’s old, and-

“Is she going to die? IS SHE GOING TO DIE?!!”

Another time, we were in Sam’s Club, and Little Dude saw packages of hangers he decided he had to have. We didn’t need them, and I wasn’t buying them just to tickle his 3-year-old fancy. Of course, this just put the little tyrant OVER THE EDGE. After all, he had decided he needed them. And he called hangers “hookers.”

So, I pushed my wagon out of Sam’s club at warp speed, while he shrieked at full volume,

“I want a hooker!! I WANT A HOOKER!

Like father, like son.


Do you have a child who you’re sure is the spawn of Satan? Who talks incessantly?
If so, do you drink in the daytime? What was the worst thing your kid ever did?
Talk to me.   I’m listening.

56 responses to The Devil Wears Carters


    Oh lordy, are you sure my kid hasn’t reverted and ended up in your household? Yours is following mine in terms of speech and worldly observations, now and then.

    I wrote a post once on how I learned he was picking up on curse words and recently that the first song he knew all the words to was “Closer”. Not sure which is worse there, the word “fuck” or a toddler singing “fuck you like an animal”.

    Mom of the Year…I pass my title on to you now…


      We have the same kid!

      I wouldn’t be surprised if it has a lot to do with our parenting style being the same. Well, of course they are just both inherently very similar.

      My kid takes hip hop and sings all the words to songs whose meaning he has no clue about. “Up all night to get lucky?” I told him it was about gambling in Atlantic City.

      Mom of the Year…I shall accept that title with gratitude!


    One day you’re going to miss his incessant talking. You may as well enjoy it while you can.

    As to your questions, the twins are the spawn of Satan, but luckily they mostly take after me.

    Helena Hann-Basquiat August 28, 2014 at 1:01 pm

    The Helen Keller comment was inappropriately delightful, darling. I had flashbacks to Penny as a wee one.


    HAHAHAHA…Yeah…I remember telling my son that you don’t have to say mommy mommy mommy mommy every time you talk…JUST START TALKING.

    Also, I recently took my 3 yo granddaughter to target to get sidewalk chalk. She pronounces chalk as ‘cock’. it has sparkles…which she pronounced ‘fuckles’, So, this is what she was saying very loudly in the store ‘Gaga! We got COCK! We got COCK with FUCKLES!’


    I’m not sure what it is about little boys and their mothers, but when I was young, my dad wasn’t around a lot of the time because he worked nights and weekends a lot. Anyway, I do recall having conversations with my mom through the door while she tried to go to the bathroom. Lol. Well this must be the other side of that story. I sometimes wonder if Gman is the spawn of Satan, but then he’ll do something really sweet. It’s hard to tell. Cool is my talker, but not as bad as your lad. It takes him a second to get his sentences started sometimes and it drives me nuts. I’m sure we’re supposed to enjoy these creatures more, but annoying is annoying, family or not. Your boy will be a teen soon, and you’ll be begging him to talk to you about something. Anything. Lol.


      I know he’ll be a surly teen who hates me and wants to kill himself and most of the school. Yes. I’ve heard about the Dark Side known as Middle School.
      That’s why we spend so much time together now. Because he loves hanging out with me. So I’m savoring that, because it will be short lived.

      Of course, right about now, when school NEEDS TO START ALREADY, shit is getting real in my house.
      So, Gman is the little devil, huh? yep, just when you think you want to kill them, they do something really really cute.


    Although a prosecutor normally has to shut up for a few seconds to get an answer, Little Dude will still make a great prosecutor if he keeps it up like that: people would confess to anything just to get him to stop talking. 🙂


    I disagree with TD only because my sister is an incessant talker who started talking the minute she came out, or so I’ve been told. She’s 34 and it hasn’t died down yet. I don’t see any light at the end of the tunnel.


    Mommy. Mommy. Mine say mo’om mo’om all the time. And my son is 7 and still never stops talking. He’s even learned to recognize when I quit listening. He’ll say, “mo’om. I know you’re not listening,” and I want to just hide sometimes. I guess I’m trying to say that I get it. I had the same conversations. The ones that circle and circle and circle and never end. Like that song: this is the song that never ends…


    Okay, while it’s not incessant, this is often a part of my day. Times four. They all do it and they all do it at the same time and they all begin with “Mama, mama, mama, mama,” so that it sounds like MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAM because they all do it at once and yell to be heard. On the other hand, no one child of mine has quite that stamina. Also, I push all four outside and lock the doors sometimes. And through the glass I say, “LOOK! I made you PLAYMATES Go PLAY! First one to tattle tale gets a TIME OUT.”

    But you, you describe it all so ding-dang awesomely well. Really. It’s like Erma Bombeck on drugs. I laughed out loud. And then I locked the door.


    He’s a child of the modern age, providing everyone around him with buckets of bloggin material.


    I LOVE your Little Dude stories! I wouldn’t say mine are the spawn of Satan, but they have been known to suck the life out of me. The have now accepted the moniker “Little Shits”- they don’t even protest it any more. I know! We should get your Satan seed and my little shits together and let them discuss random stupid shit and play Minecraft while you and I go in another room and sip on some wine. (It’s acceptable to day drink with a friend. If you do it alone you have a problem)

    Two points about my comment: This is probably the 5th time I’ve “asked you out.”
    And also, I don’t have a drinking problem. But I do rely on it for sanity and survival.

    Shards Of DuBois August 28, 2014 at 2:56 pm

    LMAO!!! Couldn’t stop laughing! My sons are ADHD also, of course I’m assuming yours is too, but they both talked nonstop from birth. I did not enjoy it! my first sons’ first word was “Watsthat”? He said it probably 10 million times before preschool, when I finally got some peace and quiet. My second son called another kid in kindergarten a “Douchebag” because that was the nickname his older brother gave him when he learned how to speak. That was a fun conversation with the teacher! But don’t lose hope sweetie, like you said he will make a wonderful prosecutor some day, or possibly an auctioneer, so at least you know he’ll be employable at some point!!!!! My suggestion…. ever hear of Nyquil??? they have a child version… puts em right to sleep… any time of day!!!!! lol


    After all that talk, you are listening to me? (um no you are reading this here comment – so I guess not) ….. just between us girls, i think all toddlers bang on the toilet door when their parents need to pee….. mine does that too. 😉


    I’m at that age where I need to decide if I want to have kids. You just made the decision easy. LMFAO!


    I’ve MISSED your posts! OMG I am still wiping the friggin’ TEARS off my face praying my boss won’t call me to get something for him while he yammers on and on through a conference call about “credit side of receivables” and “beginning balance” and “P&L statements” and “I’d have to back through 13 years of files to figure out why I said that”.
    I’m having a really crap day struggling through writing a tough blog post and THIS SHIT made my day. Kind of reminds me of a Bizarro-World version of Sheldon Cooper from BBT… Please don’t be insulted! I thinks it’s adorable & hilarious but at the same time I have some sympathy – my friend’s kid was having breakfast withdrawal in the middle of Rockaway Parkway screaming “I want OPIUM!!” repeatedly the whole way home. She wanted “oatmeal”. 😉


    And my son had separation anxiety – while I was in the SAME HOUSE! Every time I’d go to the bathroom at my cousin’s house, he’d bash the door and scream and cry until I came out. Fucking stalker… LOL


    My kids used to think up questions they thought I couldn’t answer.

    The best one (I can recalled) was “…Dod…” that’s what they called me, why? I’ve no idea “…Dod. How do gay men have sex?” After a few seconds recovery and thought I replied “anyway they can” seemed to satisfy them.

    Now that they are older, the questions that are asked have answers I would rather not give “…Dod. Why’s there so many people wishing misery on others?”


      Ha! I’m pretty sure I answered Little Dude the exact same way about gay men having sex!

      Yes. Although only 11, his questions now sometimes pain me. After watching a commercial asking for donations, it was “Why don’t they have enough food?” I didn’t even know where to begin. I think I copped and said, “It’s complicated.”

      Good to see you. Hope your summer went well, and that you got a good bit of cycling in.


    This is brilliant. I’m always part embarrassed part proud when my kids swear in context. Like when some guy in a sports car cut me off to zip into the spot closest to the door ahead of me and my three year old from her car seat informed me that “that man was a HOLE, mommy.”

    Yup. Mostly felt proud and understood there. But other more public times? Not so much.

    Looking forward to others in the series :).


    Send him to me when he gets too much – I LOVE kidspeak and can talk it FOR HOURS. Seriously. I’ve worn kids out doing it 😀




    My first child cried for the entire first year of his life due to acid reflux. I had to give him medication seven times a day! I was happy when he could talk instead of cry. He was a talker, too. I remember those moments in the bathroom, please just let me have quiet, but then no, he would bang on the door! You brought it all back. My second child is really quiet, but lately has been talking a lot in this quiet little voice, and I can’t hear him when I’m driving. Now, I want to hear what he’s saying. All kids are different. Funny story you have, Samara! Your son is very inquisitive, which I think is a great thing.


    My second daughter won’t shut up. If she doesn’t have anything to say, she’ll just make weird noises. It’s as if she’s afraid of the silence. My mother was like that.

    Neither daughter has dropped the F bomb yet I consider that a major achievement.


    HOLY SWEET FUCKING JESUS. You son has left me speechless. I love the way you write. This was funny. I know for sure I could not handle your sons enthusiasm for saying words. He sounds pretty amazing and he will likely at some point grow out of it (at least I hope the fuck so) but you do have the patients of a saint. I was going to end this comment by asking if “I can pee pee in your mouth?” thinking it would be clever and funny but coming from a man my age, over the internet, it sounds like I’m some puppy kicking, pipe smoking, fully bearded, old testament scholar, who’s terribly confused. But I’m none of those things (phew). So I’ll end by saying your son is really fortunate to have a mom like you.


    Hi Samara! I have been wondering how you are doing. Did school start for Little Satan Dude? LOL. I hope so for your sake so you can take a question answering break.

    My son was VERY inquisitive. No answer was ever enough, he had to keep delving into each answer and asking another questions and then another. “How wide is that river? How deep? How cold? If I fell in it would I die? What if our car fell in, would we die? How would we get out?” I ended up having to buy one of those breaking glass gadgets and kept it in the glove compartment so that he would feel safe whenever we crossed the river on the bridge. Then the questions began about how stable the bridge was, how old, how tall, etc. Now at the age of 20, I have to pull the words out of his arse! 🙂

    The, “I want a hooker” thing is hilarious. 🙂


    Sneakily tried to read this on my phone at work right after you published, got about halfway through before I was laughing so hard I had to stop reading for fear of my coworkers would want to know what I was doing.
    But, yes, hilarious.
    And I’m very much looking forward to the little prince growing out of his little hellion phase he is in now, and growing into the even worse hellion phase where he is just as wild and rambunctious, but also has words to go with it all.
    Very excited.


    Oh my! I was just smiling alone, happily understanding and nodding my head…and then ‘I WANT A HOOKER! Let there the peeing of the pants! Seriously, though….what do you expect from a gifted kid. Their thoughts come fast and furious. My son watched and listened a lot for the first year or two of his life. I worried for a while. Turns out, he was learning fast and hard and now I can’t keep up. Some of the stuff he comes up with….I’m no idiot but I have to stop and stare with my mouth hanging wide open.


    This is an interesting perspective, I must admit… and really funny.


    My 3-year-old has a plastic pirate hook (think captain hook). He runs around with it, “hooking” things, and screams “I’m hookin’!” He does this at home and in public. I don’t know if I should correct him because he is, really, hooking things.


    Hahaha! That is awesome. Not for you, though. Sorry. I swear I don’t understand why Pfizer or AstraZeneca or someone hasn’t yet cleared the patent for Baby Valium. Because that shit would make MILLIONS!


    I have 3 sons, the oldest (now 17) hardly says anything these days but he used to follow me around my shed asking questions non-stop, he wouldn’t even wait for an answer to the last one before moving onto the next one. My 2nd son (now 16) used to have a direct link from his brain to his mouth such that I never once had to wonder what the actual fuck he was thinking because everything single damn thing was spoken, holy snappin’ duck shit let me tell you TD is way off base when he says you’re gonna miss that shit. I don’t and I don’t know what I would’ve done if he was still doing it…who the hell wants to know every single thought going through a 16 year old boys mind…not me! My 3rd son just turned 14 the other day…all I can say is, he better learn to shut the fuck up soon and out grow the incessant running commentary on life as he knows it (complete with arm waving and sound effects) or he’s never gonna see 15! So, I present you with hope, 2 of ’em outgrew it…although the jury’s out on number 3. Hang in there Darlin’.

    p.s. Hey, Lil Dude, what do you think are the best lines from your top 100 favourite movies? Make sure you tell your Mum.

    p.p.s. heh heh


    My most talkative kid is now 24 – and has yet to shut up. When she comes in and starts telling me a long, convoluted story about the shenanagans going on at her work (which I do not give a shit about) – I can practically feel my eyeballs glazing over.


    I had a headache before reading this and by the end I couldn’t stop laughing..but of course I feel your pain, not mocking you or anything. Yes, right okay. Ahem.

    It was hilarious. Your kid is one of a kind. I remember there was a time I though my brother was the antichrist. It was around the time I had watching Omen and my brother was born on the same day as the child in the movie; 6th June. I was suspicious of everything he did. His tantrums were the worst.

    But he’s older now and NOT the antichirst. Disappointed, I know.

    Your child on the other hand is probably a handful. But his questions are too cute. Specially the ones about pee pee and pee!

    If you ever decide to publish this series, I’d love to buy them 🙂 I’m sharing this on twitterrrr!


      Oh, thank you so much for sharing! And for reading.

      Did laughing make your headache go away? Maybe we could patent that as a headache cure…

      And wow! So good to know I have one book sold. I’ll keep that in mind if I ever get around to writing it.


    Holy crap, my son is just the same. He talks constantly. The moment I open the door he is telling me all about his day, his Minecraft crap and babbles incessantly. And the 4 time studder, he does the same for me, except for me it’s Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy. Have you heard Louis CK’s rant about that? Totally funny.


    Oh my f’ing god this is f’ing insane! I can’t believe….hahahaha!

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