"I Like My Kids, Not Yours" by Susannah Lewis via @InthePowderRoom humor | funny | parenting | LOLs | honest | kids | manners

I Like My Kids, Not Yours

I don’t like other people’s kids.

You have no idea what a huge relief it is to admit that.

It’s like a 24-ton Komodo dragon has been lifted off my chest.

As a mother, I am supposed to love children, right? Well, guess what? I love my children. Yours? Not so much.

I walked into my kitchen a few weeks ago and there was some unknown prepubescent boy rummaging through my refrigerator. My daughter and her other friends were playing in the back yard.

“And, um, who are you?”

“I’m Dana’s cousin,” he replied, continuing to search for a snack.

After grilling him for nearly five minutes and consulting a genealogy chart, I finally realized that Dana was a friend of a kid down the street, who happened to be playing with my daughter in our back yard. Confusing, right? Even more confusing is how this child ended up inside my home and drinking my organic juice boxes and dipping his dirty fingers in my Nutella.

“I don’t know you. Please close my refrigerator and remove yourself from my kitchen,” I demanded.

“I just need a snack,” he argued with me.

Turd, I thought.

“GO. AWAY.” I said.

This is the kid I can’t stand—the one with no manners who thinks he can barge into my house for free snacks.

What about that little brat in the restaurant throwing ring-shaped chicken at my head while I’m trying to eat my New York Strip in peace?

His mother giggles, “No, no, little Leroy. That lady doesn’t want chicken spheres in her freshly highlighted hair.”

Little Leroy’s horns poke through his summertime buzz cut as he throws another one at me.

His mother giggles again, his father tucks his testicles in his butt crack, and they both let little Leroy run the show. I can’t stand little Leroy.

Turd, I think

A little girl, who I’ve met once or twice in passing, pulls my daughter aside at school and says, “Tell your mom that I’m coming to your house to play this afternoon.”

“Mama, Ashley is coming over to play this afternoon,” my precious, always innocent offspring says.

(I assure you that my children never get on anyone’s nerves. Seriously. Never.)

The little girl interrupts, “My name is Ashton. Not Ashley.”

Do you see how well we know this child? My daughter didn’t even know her name.

“Ashton can’t come over this afternoon. We have a lot of errands to run today,” I smile kindly at the unknown child.

What do you have to do?” Ashton asks, as if it is any of her business.

“We are very busy today, dear. Not today.”

“Then when?” she says, attitude evident in her squeaky little voice, her Children of the Corn haircut frightening me a little.

“Some other time,” I grab my daughter’s hand and look for the nearest exit.

“When?!” she screams.

Turd, I think, as I scurry toward the door.

I don’t like little Ashton. I don’t like children demanding to know my plans and inviting themselves to my home. I don’t like Children of the Corn.


Yeah, I call other people’s kids turds, but the term is fitting.

However, it isn’t really the little turds’ fault, is it?

If Dana’s cousin had been raised with manners, he wouldn’t be robbing me of my foodstuffs.

If Leroy had been raised with discipline, my hair wouldn’t smell like hormone-laden poultry.

If Ashton had been raised with manners or discipline, she wouldn’t be inviting herself to my house and wanting to know my agenda for the day.

So, it isn’t really the children. It’s the parents.

Parents are turds.

I don’t like parents.

You’ve no idea what a huge relief it is to admit that.

It’s like a 24-ton Komodo dragon has been lifted off my chest.

"I Like My Kids, Not Yours" by Susannah Lewis via @InthePowderRoom  humor | funny | parenting | LOLs | honest | kids | manners

This post was written by Susannah Lewis exclusively for In the Powder Room, a division of Hold My Purse Productions, LLC. Featured image © istockphoto.com/CREATISTA. 

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Susannah B. Lewis is a freelance writer, blogger, humorist, aspiring best-selling author, wife of one and stay-at-home mother of two. She was chosen for the Top 13 in Blogger Idol 2013 and contributes pieces to The Huffington Post and Hahas for Hoohas. Her work has been featured in several humorous e-books, Southern Writers’ Magazine, The Humor Daily and on the Erma Bombeck website. When she’s not putting pen to paper, bandaging boo-boos or spraying Shout on unidentifiable stains, she enjoys reading, playing the piano and teaching her children all about Southern charm. Read her humor blog, Whoa! Susannah. (www.whoasusannah.com).

Keep the conversation going...



  1. Kim says

    You would like my kids.. I have been called the ‘manners nazi’.. I’m ok with that. My 8 year old looks at other children and just shakes her head… it cracks me up. I have been known to bark at another’s child for running through a restaurant or store just hoping the parent will approach me. The cowards never do :/ pity.

    • She-Ra says

      That’s funny. I’m not called the manners nazi (pretty close though) But my Daughter AND Son are appalled by the behavior of some of their peers.

  2. says

    So funny! I’m with you. The most recent trouble I had was that I didn’t like my friend’s kid. That’s a tough one. Of course, my friend’s never knew but he knew it – he’s a bit older now so the two of us tolerate each other. (And he was such a sweet baby)

  3. Mallory says

    This reminds me of one of those Most Intersting Man in the World memes… “I don’t always hate children, but when I do, it’s usually because their parents aren’t doing their job.”

  4. melisa says

    It’s parents like this lady that wrote this piece that judge me with their stares of your a bad parent, when my autistic 3 year old has meltdowns …. thanks.

  5. Tessa says

    This is appalling. Not because you dislike other people’s kids, naturally you don’t like everyone. But your attitude towards others is despicable. I truly hope that your kids learn from the manners that you teach them, but also learn to grace to be forgiving to others for their mistakes. And not just on the outside, but to actually learn to love other people.

  6. says

    I adore that this post gets to the crux of it: the kids are the first thing to annoy, but upon closer reflection, the truth emerges: it’s the parents who fostered and allowed the turdishness whom we really hate.

    Fingers in the Nutella is my new euphemism for lots of bad things, by the way.

  7. says

    Ah, I’ve never liked other people’s kids either. At least, not the turd-kids. Yes, I know exactly the kind you mean. And, like you, when I look closer I see it has to do with the parents. Mother turds birthing turdlets. If my children ever give me even a whiff of the entitled act, I set them straight, and fast.