Boy And His Dad Quotes

A month ago, Gavin had given his employer four weeks' notice. "I'll get a job around here," he'd told her. "Something low-stress, part-time, maybe. We're not paying rent, and Dad's left us plenty. You should quit, too." A year earlier this news would have filled her with delicious, full fat, chocolate-coated joy. But now, after a grueling routine of shitty work, shitty- weird home life in a house where the shadow of a dead boy walked more solidly than the grownups, shitty headaches, shitty worry about a husband who couldn't keep his dick out of other women, the golden offer just weirded Laine out. She didn't trust it. ~ Stephen M. Irwin

At first, his charisma made it addictive to be around him; but over time I recognized it was also a façade. There was a wounded boy inside of him. He had grown up without a dad, so it made sense to me that he sought constant validation. I found it endearing, humanizing; until he started to indulge that little boy. There were tantrums, there was acting out, there was his need to control things that he no business controlling, but he was still that boy, and I loved him.



So I stayed thinking it would get better, and then one morning I woke up to one of life's clarion calls. I deserved better than this. That night I said I was leaving. ~ Steven Rowley

His father shook him roughly to get his attention. "Listen to me, boy. I need you to take care of your sisters. You hear me?" Even though he was the youngest of the Dagan children and only eight years old, it was something his dad always said to him. "Yeah, I know." "No, Cai, you don't. You're too young to comprehend what I'm trying to tell you, but you have to try." There was a sadness in his father's eyes that scared him. A resignation that had never been there before and it made him want to cry. But Dagans didn't cry and he wasn't about to let his dad see him act like one of his sisters. His father cupped his face in his calloused palm. "It'll be years before you understand what's happening - if even then. But I need you to listen to me and trust me. I won't be here to protect you anymore." Caillen ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Are all your family wizards?" asked Harry, who found Ron just as interesting as Ron found him.
"Er- yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."
"So you must know loads of magic already."
The Weasleys were clearly one of those old wizarding families the pale boy in Diagon Alley had talked about.
"I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?"
"Horrible- well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."
"Five," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left- Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."
Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep.
"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff- I mean, I got Scabbers instead."
Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to thi ~ J.K. Rowling

When I arrived Dad was at home. He was in the laundry room at the bottom of the house. He turned to me, anger in every movement.

"I picked you some flowers," I said.

He reached out with his hand, took them, and threw them in the large sink.

"Little girls pick flowers," he said.

He was right. And he was probably ashamed of me. Once some of his colleagues had come home and they had seen me on the stairs, with my blond hair quite long, because it was winter, and I was wearing red long johns.

"What a nice girl you've got," one of them said.

"It's a boy," Dad answered. He had smiled, but I knew him well enough to know the comment had not gladdened his heart.

There was my interest in clothes, my crying if I didn't get the shoes I wanted, my crying if it was too cold when we were in the boat on the sea, indeed my crying if he raised his voice in situations when it would have been absolutely normal to raise your voice. Was it so strange he thought: what kind of son have I got here?

I was a mama's boy, he was constantly telling me. I was, too. I longed for her. And no one was happier than I when she moved back for good at the end of the month. ~ Karl Ove Knausgaard

Day and night flash in a strobe, seasons collide, clouds explode, candles melt onto icing sugar, a wreath rots way. The boy and his dad rush through time, thumbs pressed together.
The boy grows like a weed.
And in every moment is a world unseen - beyond balconies, outside of memory, far from the reach of understanding ~ Nathan Filer

Supposing an emperor was persuaded to wear a new suit of clothes whose material was so fine that, to the common eye, the clothes weren't there. And suppose a little boy pointed out this fact in a loud, clear voice ...
Then you have The Story of the Emperor Who Had No Clothes.
But if you knew a bit more, it would be The Story of the Boy Who Got a Well-Deserved Thrashing from His Dad for Being Rude to Royalty, and Was Locked Up.
Or The Story of the Whole Crowd Who Were Rounded Up by the Guards and Told 'This Didn't Happen, OK? Does Anyone Want to Argue?'
Or it could be a story of how a whole kingdom suddenly saw the benefit of the 'new clothes', and developed an enthusiasm for healthy sports in a lively and refreshing atmosphere which got many new adherents every year, and led to a recession caused by the collapse of the conventional clothing industry.
It could even be a story about The Great Pneumonia Epidemic of '09.
It all depends on how much you know. ~ Terry Pratchett

An accountant would not make his girlfriend worry he while he was away at work"
"Yeah," Jonas shot back with a smile, "but he also wouldn't have a milf girlfriend either."
I felt my eyes round as Tate said in a father's warning tone but still I could tell from his voice he was smiling huge, "Bub."
"Dad, seriousloy, she's milf," Jonas returned.
"Think it, boy, don't say it." Tate replied.
"Right," Jonas muttered but he was still smiling at me and his smile was unrepentant.
Jonas had called me a milf.
I knew what that meant and I didn't know what to do with it.
Seriously, Tate from head to toe. ~ Kristen Ashley

My son, a perfect little boy of five years and three months, had ended his earthly life. You can never sympathize with me; you can never know how much of me such a young child can take away. A few weeks ago I accounted myself a very rich man, and now the poorest of all. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Raquel laughed, and David joined her. They sounded slightly manic. "You're free now," he said.
"Of all of it," she answered, and I looked up to see them locked in a gaze I'd previously only observed between actors on Easton Heights - one filled with all the things unspoken over the years, all the betrayals and fears and pain left behind in favor of overwhelming love. It was beautiful.
Oh, who am I kidding, it was awkward as all heck and I didn't have time for it. "Okay! So, you may have noticed Lend is in the kitchen."
"Mmm hmm," Raquel answered, reaching up to smooth down a stray piece of David's hair.
"Yeah, that'd be the big faerie curse."
"Farie curse?" She actually turned toward me; David took both her hands in his.
"Yup. Really funny one, too. See, any time Lend and I are in the same room or can see each other or could actually, you know, touch, he falls fast asleep."
"Oh," Raquel frowned.
"So I need your help. You know all the names of the IPCA controlled faeries, right?"
She nodded, her frown deepening.
"Well, it was a dark faerie curse, so I figure we need a dark faerie to undo it. So you call an Unseelie faerie, we give him or her a named command to break the curse, ta-da, we can double-date!"
"Wait, who can double-date?" Lend asked.
"I'll let your dad tell you. So. Faerie?"
Raquel heaved a sigh, along the lines of her famous things never get easier, do they? sign, and, boy, I agreed with her.
"T ~ Kiersten White

Cabal. Cabal. Cabal. I summon you to me. Now."
Simi and Kody exchanged a look that said he was as crazy as he suddenly felt when nothing happened.
Great, Dad. I can look stupid on my own. Didn't really need you to help out on that front.
That was his thought until he heard a curse and something slammed into him, knocking him against the wall. Nick shoved his attacker away, then froze as he looked into a pair of familiar, startled brown eyes.
Now this was the giant badass-tough demon that Nick was used to.
"Malphas?"
Tense and braced to fight, Caleb turned around slowly, surveying every aspect of his new surroundings. He paused as he faced Kody and Simi. "Where the heck am I? And how did I get here?"
Kody pointed to Nick. "Apparently, Nick summoned you."
"Nick?" Caleb glanced right past Nick and kept searching the room with his gaze. "Our Nick? Where is the little booger?"
She gestured even more exaggeratedly at Nick's position. "Right there."
Caleb's jaw went slack as he faced him."Nick?"
"Caleb?"
The word had barely left his lips before Caleb grabbed him into a bear hug and held him tight. Which was extremely awkward and gross. Completely weirded out by it, Nick tried to disentangle himself from the demon. It wasn't like Caleb to show any emotion toward him other than irritation or frustration. Sometimes anger.
"Stop C! If you're going to hug me like this, you got to buy me dinner first, boy. And it's got to be ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Robot Boy
Mr. an Mrs. Smith had a wonderful life.
They were a normal, happy husband and wife.
One day they got news that made Mr. Smith glad.
Mrs. Smith would would be a mom
which would make him the dad!
But something was wrong with their bundle of joy.
It wasn't human at all,
it was a robot boy!
He wasn't warm and cuddly
and he didn't have skin.
Instead there was a cold, thin layer of tin.
There were wires and tubes sticking out of his head.
He just lay there and stared,
not living or dead.

The only time he seemed alive at all
was with a long extension cord
plugged into the wall.

Mr. Smith yelled at the doctor,
"What have you done to my boy?
He's not flesh and blood,
he's aluminum alloy!"

The doctor said gently,
"What I'm going to say
will sound pretty wild.
But you're not the father
of this strange looking child.
You see, there still is some question
about the child's gender,
but we think that its father
is a microwave blender."

The Smith's lives were now filled
with misery and strife.
Mrs. Smith hated her husband,
and he hated his wife.
He never forgave her unholy alliance:
a sexual encounter
with a kitchen appliance.

And Robot Boy
grew to be a young man.

Though he was often mistaken
for a garbage can. ~ Tim Burton

Tina and Pete stood together. Pete knew he should be grilling the girl, getting the full story before details were lost, but he was too spellbound by the reunion. The boy he was watching was so different. There was no way to avoid the truth. Someone, a very evil someone, had hurt his boy. Pete felt his fists clench. Whoever it was that had turned Lockie into the skinny kid trapped behind his pain, he would pay. If he had to spend his whole life looking for him, Pete would find him and then he would make him pay. The girl had obviously helped Lockie. He had no idea if she had found him or if she had been with him the whole time, but Lockie kept saying that she had 'saved' him. He was a clever kid and he knew what the word meant.
Pete liked the way she looked at Lockie - like a lioness, like a sister, like a mother.
The skinny girl with short messy black hair could have been anyone. She looked about fifteen but when she spoke she sounded a lot older. She was wearing a big coat but underneath that Pete had caught a glimpse of a short skirt and a tight red top. Not the kind of thing a nice girl would wear. Maybe she wasn't a nice girl but she was smart. That was easy to see. She was watching Lockie with his dad and Pete could see her body sag with relief. She was relieved to get him home. It must have been a promise she had made the boy.
Pete had no idea how she'd got him home. She didn't look like she had a cent to her name. He sighed.
So many questions t ~ Nicole Trope

He said the only reason I got to have nice things was because I got to be such a nice looking boy. He said when people looked like me. I didn't need the brains. I just tricked it from people. I didn't know what kind of boy my dad meant. My dad said I was that kind of boy. He said it one day I was in the bath and he got his hand on my thing. I didn't want to be that kind of boy. I didn't want people to touch me like that. It hurt. But my dad said it's how to get nice things. If I got to be nice back. ~ J.D. Stockholm

The description of Huck's father grabbed my full attention, and I glanced up at the book in my teacher's hand as if to double check. My eyes bulged reflexively. Huck's father was an abusive drunk just like mine. The boy was hopeful that a corpse found near the river was actually his dad, but it turned out not to be. It was spooky how high my hopes rose for the boy, and then sank so utterly low when the body was discovered to be a female in disguise. I should've mourned for the woman, but it was the boy I felt bad for. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

I wonder what Mom would say if she were here," I said.
Dad pulled back, his eyes wet with happy tears. "She'd say you did good, son." He looked at Abby. "She'd say thank you for giving her boy back something that left him when she did."
"I don't know about that," Abby said, wiping her eyes. She was clearly overwhelmed by Dad's sentiment.
He hugged us again, laughing and squeezing at the same time. "You wanna bet? ~ Jamie McGuire

I turned to Kitty Sue and surprised myself by answering honestly, "I'm fine. Lee's fine. Lee's more fine than me. I'm having troubles adjusting. Lee seems pretty sure of himself. Lee seems pretty sure of everything."

This, I realized, was true about Lee always. I'd never met someone as confident in my life. Well, maybe Hank, but Hank's confidence was quiet and assured. And there was Lee's best friend, Eddie, of course. But Eddie was like Lee's twin, separated at birth, cut from the same cloth. Lee's confidence, and Eddie's, wasn't like Hank's. It was cocky and assertive.

"And you aren't sure?" Kitty Sue asked.

I looked at her and thought maybe I should have lied. It was too late now.

"Nope. He scares me," I admitted.

She nodded. "Yep, he's pretty dang scary."

I stared. My God, the woman was talking about her son.

"You agree?"

She looked at Lee then back at me. "Honey, that boy drives me to distraction. It's like he's not of my loins. I don't even know where he came from. If Ally hadn't been the exact replica of Lee, personality-wise, except female I would have wondered if there was a mix up at the hospital."

I kept staring. Kitty Sue kept talking.

"Hank's just like his Dad. Smart, cautious, controlled, taking only calculated risks. I'm sure Lee calculates his risks, but I think he allows for a much larger margin for error and counts on ... I don't know what he counts ~ Kristen Ashley

His own past kept flying up around him like moths; old fears back again, the ghosts' problems only serving to remind him of his own. Even the little anxieties that nipped at his heels as a boy were back now as sharp-toothed dogs, following him, barking loudly, drawing more and more attention to themselves. Now, as he looked for his dad, Silas felt like he had as a boy: left behind, alone, forgotten. And he could see, now, his personal feelings made his encounters with the dead and his travels through their lands dangerous and filled with the possibility of entrapment. ~ Ari Berk

I firmly believe that every boy needs his mom to love him and every girl needs her dad to pay attention to her. ~ Amy Poehler

Do you mean to tell me', he growled a the Dursleys, 'that this boy- this boy! - knows nothin' abou' - about ANYTHING?'
Harry thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school, after all, and his marks were'nt bad.
'I know some things,' he said. ' I can, you know, do maths and stuff.'
But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, 'About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer' parents world.'
'What world?'
Hagrid looked at though he was about to explode.
'DURSLEY!' he boomed.
Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like 'Mimblewimble'.
Hagrid stared wildly at Harry.
'But yeh must know about yer mum and dad', he said. 'I mean, they're famous. You're famous.
'What? My - my mum and dad weren't famous, were they?'
'Yeh don' know... yeh don' know...' Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare.
'Yeh don' know what yeh are?' he said finally.
Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.
'Stop!' he commanded, 'stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!'
A braver man than Vernon dudley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.
'You never told him? Never told him what was in the latter Dumbledore left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you kept it from him all these years?'
'Kept what from me?' said Harry eagerl ~ J.K. Rowling

He repeated the story he liked to tell us. The one with the small boy who was trying to lift a rock in his garden, and the boy's dad was watching him heave and sweat and struggle, but get nowhere. Eventually the dad asks, 'Why don't you use all of your strength?' And the boy says, 'I am, Daddy. I am using all of my strength.' And his dad says, 'No you're not. You haven't asked me for help. ~ Nathan Filer

Last night I had the dream again. Except it's not a dream I know because when it comes for me, I'm still awake.
There's my desk. The map on the wall. The Stuffed animals I don't play with anymore but don't want to hurt Dad's feelings by sticking in the closet I might be in bed. I might be just standing there, looking foe a missing sock. Then i'm gone.
it doesn't just show me somthing this time, it takes me from here to THERE> standing on the bank of a river of fire. A thousand wasps in my head. Fighting and dying inside my skull, their bodies piling up against the backs of me eyes. Stinging and stinging.
Dad's voice. Somewhere across the river. Calling my name. I've never heard him sound like that before. He's so frightened he can't hide it, even though he tries (he ALWAYS tries).
The dead boy floats by.
Facedown. So I wait for his head to pop up, show the holes where his eye used to be, say somthing with his blue lips. One of the terrible things it might make him do. But he just passes like a chunk of wood. I've never been here before, but I know it's real. The river is the line between this place and the Other Place. And I'm on the wrong side. There's a dark forest behind me but that's not what it is. I try to get to where Dad is. My toes touch the river and it sings with pain. Then there's arms pulling me back. Dragging me into the trees. They feel like a man's arms but it's not a man that sticks its fingers into my mouth. Nails that scratch the ~ Andrew Pyper

The first day of kindergarten when the little boy in a blue polo shirt had sat next to me and told me he'd be my friend when I couldn't stop crying after my dad had dropped me off. The boy who'd brought me a tray of brownies, a stack of movies, and sat with me on the couch all week after I broke my leg in fifth grade. The boy who'd blushed whenever I talked to him or looked his way when we became teenagers. The same boy who made it his business to make sure all the other boys treated me right. ~ Nicole Williams

Why is Mommy crying?" the young boy asks his dad, all sugared up and bewildered with concern. "Because you're an asshole," barks back the father with exasperated logic. ~ John Waters

Don't defend him! This is bullshit!" he said as he turned for the door, and then turned back to face me. "I've been sitting at work this whole time, staring at those fucking things. I wanted to calm down before I got here, but this is just . . . it's fucking disrespectful, is what it is! I bust my ass trying to prove to you that I'm better for you than he ever was. But he keeps pulling this shit, and showing up, and . . . I can't compete with some rich college boy from California. I'm barely getting by, with no degree, and up until a few days ago I still lived with my dad. But I am so fucking in love you, Cami," he said, reaching for me. "I have been since we were kids. The first time I saw you on the playground, I knew what beauty was. The first time you ignored me was my first broken heart. I thought I was playing this right, from the moment I sat down at your table at the Red. No one has ever wanted someone as much as I want you. For years I . . ." He was breathing hard, and he clenched his jaw. "When I heard about your dad, I wanted to rescue you," he said, chuckling, but not out of humor. "And that night at your apartment, I thought I'd finally gotten something right." He pointed to the ground. "That my purpose in life was to love you and keep you safe . . . but I didn't prepare for having to share you. ~ Jamie McGuire

When I was a boy, my own dad told me in a smiling and wistful way that it's a wise man that knows his own father. ~ Michael Leunig

The fact that Cooper Dayton was running down the side streets of Bethesda and not driving back to D.C. by now was proof that his father had been dead wrong. His haircut was plenty professional. Too professional, even. How else could Ben Pultz have made him as a federal agent from thirty feet away and taken off running? Not from his jeans and T-shirt. Not from the weapons carefully hidden under his intentionally oversized jacket. It had to be the bureau-regulation hair. Apparently Pultz didn't think he looked like a "boy band reject," though Cooper doubted his dad, Sherriff Dayton, would be swayed by the opinion of a fleeing homicide suspect. ~ Charlie Adhara

The thing I like best about Max is that he is brave." "What did he do that was brave?" "It's not one thing," I say. "It's everything. Max is not like any other person in the whole world. Kids make fun of him because he is different. His mom tries to change him into a different boy and his dad tries to treat him like he is someone else. Even his teachers treat him differently, and not always nicely. Even Mrs. Gosk. She is perfect but she still treats Max differently. No one treats him like a regular boy, but everyone wants him to be regular instead of himself. With all that, Max still gets out of bed every morning and goes to school and the park and the bus stop and even the kitchen table. ~ Matthew Dicks

I used to see my dad and his brothers rhyming, and I knew I wanted to do that one day. I'm like any other boy, always wanting to follow in his father's footsteps. ~ Romeo Miller

I believe another one of the Song girls has a birthday coming up." He sings, "You are sixteen, going on seventeen…" I feel a strong surge of love for him, my dad who I am so lucky to have.
"What song are you singing?" Kitty interrupts.
I take Kitty's hands and spin her around the kitchen with me. "I am sixteen, going on seventeen; I know that I'm naïve. Fellows I meet may tell me I'm sweet; willingly I believe."
Daddy throws his dish towel over his shoulder and marches in place. In a deep voice he baritones, "You need someone older and wiser telling you what to do…"
"This song is sexist," Kitty says as I dip her.
"Indeed it is," Daddy agrees, swatting her with the towel. "And the boy in question was not, in fact, older and wiser. He was a Nazi in training."
Kitty skitters away from both of us. "What are you guys even talking about?"
"It's from The Sound of Music," I say.
"You mean that movie about the nun? Never seen it."
"How have you seen The Sopranos but not The Sound of Music?"
Alarmed, Daddy says, "Kitty's been watching The Sopranos?"
"Just the commercials," Kitty quickly says.
I go on singing to myself, spinning in a circle like Liesl at the gazebo. "I am sixteen going on seventeen, innocent as a rose…Fellows I meet may tell me I'm sweet, and willingly I believe…"
"Why would you just willingly believe some random fellows you don't even know?"
"It's the song, Kitty, not me! God!" I stop spinning. "Lies ~ Jenny Han

His mother got her purse. His father reached for the door. "Scooter," he said, by way of good-bye, "have fun with your friends." But Hale was shaking his head. He put his arm around Kat's shoulders. "She's not my friend, Dad. She's my girlfriend." Hale's parents must have walked away, but Kat wasn't looking. She was too busy staring up at Hale, trying to see into his eyes and know if he was okay. The sadness that had lingered for weeks was fading, and the boy that held her was the boy she knew. A boy who kissed her lightly. ~ Ally Carter

He slid his hand onto Riley's bare abdomen. "I got to thinkin' that a few years down the line, when yer older, what if that was our baby and I could feel it right here under my hand. Feel the life we'd created."
Riley's eyes moistened. "Girl or boy?"
"Doesn't matter. If it's a girl, we can name her after my gran. Her name was Emily Rose."
"Hmm ... I like that. Maybe the boy could be Paul Arthur, like my dad."
"Yeah, that works. But that's all the way down the line, isn't it?" It might never come to pass. ~ Jana Oliver

Little boy and little girl.I don't know how old. Sweetest family in the world, of you listen to the old folks around here." Xander was stunned. "And nobody knows what happened to them?"
"Some say they high-tailed it to Europe." She raised her eyebrows at him. "Most believe he took them somewhere and killed them. Then took his own life."
Dad forced a smile. "Just old rumors," he said. ~ Robert Liparulo

When I got back to the kitchen, my heart nearly stopped. Dad was leaning across the stainless worktable, over a pile of shrimp, almost right in Alex's face. He was holding a new knife, this one small and very sharp. "You got that,kid, or should I say it again?" he was demanding.
Alex looked more nervous than I'd ever seen him. But only for a second. Then his face hardened, and he slapped both palms flat on the table. "I've got it," he said. He shoved up his sleeves and reached for the knife. Moments later, he was deveining shrimp with a lot of enthusiasm and a little skill.
Dad turned and caught me gaping. He tilted his head in obvious warning. Raw, icky, slippery: This was the task he'd given the boy I brought into his kitchen, and I was not to interfere.
Poor Alex. He was being tested for a position he didn't even want. ~ Melissa Jensen

There is no other relationship quite like that which can and should exist between a boy and his dad. It can be one of the most nurturing, joyful relationships in life, one that can have a profound impact on who boys become and also on who dads become. ~ M. Russell Ballard

The boy is young, only twelve standard years, not old enough to fight. Not yet. He looks to his father with pleading eyes. Over the din he yells: "But the battle station was destroyed, Dad! The battle is over!" They just watched it only an hour before. The supposed end of the Empire. The start of something better. The confusion in the boy's shining eyes is clear: He doesn't understand what's happening. But Rorak does. He's heard tales of the Clone Wars - tales spoken by his own father. He knows how war goes. It's not many wars, but just one, drawn out again and again, cut up into slices so it seems more manageable. ~ Chuck Wendig

I figure heaven will be a scratch-and-sniff sort of place, and one of my first requests will be the Driftwood in its prime, while it was filled with our life. And later I will ask for the smell of my dad's truck, which was a combination of basic truck (nearly universal), plus his cologne (Old Spice), unfiltered Lucky Strikes, and when I was very lucky, leaded gasoline. If I could have gotten my nose close enough I would have inhaled leaded gasoline until I was retarded. The tendency seemed to run in my family; as a boy my uncle Crandall had an ongoing relationship with a gas can he kept in the barn. Later he married and divorced the same woman four times, sometimes marrying other women in between, including one whose name was, honestly, Squirrelly. ~ Haven Kimmel

Wes held my hand in front of Dad, who played it real easy, like I had boys around all the time. JoAnn said I was lucky, and she should know. Her father specialized in fear, being a life insurance salesman, and could bring a boy to his knees. ~ Joan Bauer

Eric: But you already know...

Greta: Well, yeah, but I still want us to have The Talk. All daughters get to have The Talk.

Eric: Fine. You remember the book "If you give a Mouse a Cookie"?

Greta: Ye-es.

Eric: It's like that.

Greta: No it isn't.

Eric: No. It absolutely is...

Eric: If you give a boy a kiss, he'll want to touch your cookies. If you let him touch your cookies, he'll want to unwrap them. If you let him unwrap them, he'll want to put them in his mouth. And THEN, if you let him put them in his mouth, the boy will want to pet your kitty. But if you let him pet your kitty, he'll want to see your kitty. And of course, if you let him see your kitty, then he'll want to feed it. And if you let him kiss you, touch your cookies, unwrap your cookies, put them in his mouth, pet your kitty, see your kitty, and feed your kitty, you'll get pregnant unless you make him wear a raincoat on his banana. So it's better if you just kick the boy in the nuts and run over him with the car.

Greta: I don't think that's how The Talk usually goes.

Eric: No?

Greta: No, but it's okay, Dad. I like your version, too. ~ J.F. Lewis

You can talk about things indirectly, but if you want to talk how people really talk, you have to talk R-rated. I mean I've got three incredibly intelligent daughters, but when you get mad, you get mad and you talk like people talk. When a normal 17-year-old girl storms out of the house or 15-year-old boy is mad at his mom or dad, they're not talking the way people talk on TV. Unless it's cable. ~ Bob Saget

Reagan Truman's cell phone clamored in the darkness. It took several rings to find it.
"Hello," she mumbled, hoping she didn't wake her uncle in the next room.
"Rea, this is Noah."
"It's late, Noah." She pulled she string on an old Tiffany-style lamp that was probably five times her age. Something was wrong; not even Noah called this late.
"I know, Rea. But I need to talk to you."
She shoved her hair out of her face and tried to force sleep away. "All right, what's up?"
"I'm in the hospital, Rea. I was hurt tonight in Memphis."
"How bad?" she laughed nervously. She'd almost asked if he was still alive. There was a long pause on the line. "I don't know. Bad. Broken arm, two ribs, but it's my back that has me worried." He didn't speak for a moment. When he began again, he sounded more like a frightened boy than a man of twenty. "I'm hurt bad enough to maybe kick me off the circuit. When I hit the dirt, I was out cold. They said I kept yelling your name in the ambulance, but I don't remember. All I remember is the pain."
"Noah, what can I do? Do you want me to go over to your folk's house? I think they're in town. I could call your sister, Alex."
"No, I don't want them to worry. I know mom. She'll freak out and dad will start lecturing me like I'm still a kid. I don't want them to know anything until I know how serious it is. They're still not telling me much yet." He paused, and she knew he was fighting to keep his voice calm. "Rea, ~ Jodi Thomas

I think about the people I know with the absolutely largest hearts, people with a stunning capacity for endurance and grace and kindness against the most screaming terrors and pains. My Mom and Dad, for example, enduring the death of their first child at six months old, the boy the brother I never met, dying quietly in his stroller on the porch in the moment that my mother stepped back inside to get a pair of gloves because the crisp brilliant April wind was filled with a whistling cutting wind....

Fifty years later after five more children and two miscarriages she is standing in the kitchen with her usual eternal endless cup of tea and I ask her: How do you get over the death of your child?

And she says, in her blunt honest direct terse kind way,
You don't.
Her face harrowed like a hawk for a moment in the swirling steam of the tea.
p112-13 ~ Brian Doyle

Ground rules, Tanner," he growled. Tanner paled. More good. "No alcohol. No smoking. No drugs. No looking at other girls. You can dance with my daughter. Your hands will avoid the danger zones, which are here, here and here." Liam gestured to his chest, groin and ass. "You can kiss her. Once. At 10:59 p.m. tonight, when you'll be standing here once again. I will be on the other side of this door, waiting for her. Am I clear?" "Yes, sir," Tanner whispered. "I was your age once, too," Liam said. "I'm aware of that, sir." "I know what you think about." "I'm sorry." "You can think it. You can't do it." "Okay." "I have many sharp tools in my garage." "Yes, sir." "We're clear, then?" "Very, sir." "Good!" Liam smiled, then grabbed the boy by the shoulder and dragged him in. "Nicole! Your date's here. ~ Kristan Higgins

A friend tells a story about taking his ten-year-old son to a Jets game. The game was being played during a driving rain on a freezing cold day, and the Jets lost by twenty points to a team they were supposed to beat. As they headed toward the exits, the boy looked up, with tears in his eyes, and asked, 'Dad, why are we Jets fans? ~ Joe Queenan

I even presume to sit at his desk while I write this book, hoping some magical transference will take place and I'll be gifted, if only for this moment, with his way with words. I feel like a boy trying to fit into his dad's running shoes. ~ Erin Lee Carr

Mom," say Malia Obame, "why dont you go get the photo albem of dad when he was a small boy, maybe it will jossel his memery."
"Good idea," Michele Obame say. "I guess thats why we call you the smart one," she go, and cast a look of disapoint at Sashe Obame. ~ Seinfeld 2000

No more boys taking you on trips, you hear?" His voice was gravelly. "You can take your own self from now on. Last thing you need is some boy distracting you and making this whole situation even more complicated. Promise me you'll stay away from that son of Pharzuph."
I opened my mouth but the words stuck in my dry throat. How sweat beaded up on my forehead.
"I tried that once, John," Patti warned him. "It didn't work out so well for me."
"Have you seen the way he looks at her?" He focused on Patti, but pointed at me.
"Yes, and I've seen the way she looks at him. Truthfully, I think they need each other."
"Those two need each other like a bullet needs a target. Trust me. I've seen Nephilim kids killed for falling in love and letting it get in the way of their work."
"Well, you don't have to worry, because we're not in love," I chimed in. "He doesn't like me like that."
Dad puffed out a breath of air. "Well, he must feel something, 'cause he sure doesn't want that other kid near you."
"Is there someone else you're interested in?" Patti asked.
I rolled my colors back up, tucked them inside, and yanked the barrier back into place. Then I entertained the image of Kopano's sweet dimple for a brief second before pushing it away.
"I'm not ready to think about that," I answered.
My father tilted his head up to the ceiling and pressed his giant hands to his face, muffling his speech. "I'm way too old for this. ~ Wendy Higgins

Mama," the child exclaimed, breathless and agitated.
Phoebe looked down at him in concern. "Justin, what is it?"
"Galoshes brought me a dead mouse. She dropped it on the floor right in front of me!"
"Oh, dear." Tenderly Phoebe smoothed his dark, ruffled hair. "I'm afraid that's what cats do. She thought it was a fine gift."
"Nanny won't touch it, and the housemaid screamed, and I had a fight with Ivo."
Although Phoebe's younger brother Ivo was technically Justin's uncle, the boys were close enough in age to play together and quarrel.
"About the mouse?" Phoebe asked sympathetically.
"No, before the mouse. Ivo said there's going to be a honeymoon and I can't go because it's for grownups." The boy tilted his head back to look up at her, his lower lip quivering. "You wouldn't go to the honeymoon without me, would you, Mama?"
"Darling, we've made no plans to travel yet. There's too much to be done here, and we all need time to settle in. Perhaps in the spring - "
"Dad wouldn't want to leave me behind. I know he wouldn't!"
In the electrified silence that followed, Tom shot a glance at West, who looked blank and startled.
Slowly Phoebe lowered to the ground until her face was level with her son's. "Do you mean Uncle West?" she asked gently. "Is that what you're calling him now?"
Justin nodded. "I don't want him to be my uncle - I already have too many of those. And if I don't have a dad, I'll never learn how to tie my shoes ~ Lisa Kleypas

Jesus told them, "God is like the dad who couldn't stop loving his boy, And people are like the son who said, "Does my dad really want me to be happy?"
Jesus told people this story to show them what God is like. And to show people what they are like.
So they could know, however far they ran, however well they hid, however lost they were- it wouldn't matter. Because God's children could never run to far, or be too lost, for God to find them. ~ Sally Lloyd-Jones

Your mother was a saint, if there ever was one. She's smiling on you today, you know that, right?" "I know." "Boy did she love you." "I wish I felt like I knew her," I said, like I always said. "Know yourself, and you'll know her," Dad said, another one of his famous sayings. "You're a lot like her. ~ Jennifer Handford

Still, I could tell he and Gayle were trying. She baked a cake. Not as good as yours, though."
"What kind of cake?" I ask.
"Devil's food cake. Kind of dry." Peter hesitates before he says, "I invited him to graduation."
"You did?" My heart swells.
"He kept asking about school, and…I don't know. I thought about what you said, and I just did it." He shrugs, like he doesn't care much either way if his dad's there or not. It's an act. Peter cares. Of course he cares. "So you'll meet him then."
I snuggle closer to him. "I'm so proud of you, Peter."
He gives a little laugh. "For what?"
"For giving your dad a chance even though he doesn't deserve it." I look up at him and say, "You're a nice boy, Peter K.," and the smile that breaks across his face makes me love him even more. ~ Jenny Han

The attitude of our managers vividly contrasts with that of the young man who married a tycoon's only child, a decidedly homely and dull lass. Relieved, the father called in his new son- in-law after the wedding and began to discuss the future:
Son, you're the boy I always wanted and never had. Here's a stock certificate for 50% of the company. You're my equal partner from now on.'
Thanks, dad.'
Now, what would you like to run? How about sales?'
I'm afraid I couldn't sell water to a man crawling in the Sahara.'
Well then, how about heading human relations?'
I really don't care for people.'
No problem, we have lots of other spots in the business. What would you like to do?'
Actually, nothing appeals to me. Why don't you just buy me out? ~ Warren Buffett