Unfiltered Story #47970

(Worst period of my life. Back pain, tummy hurts, wild hormones, and I’m planning my sister’s wedding while trying crazy hard to keep it together. While discussing the wording for the invitation, which has a dangerously close deadline to be printed, I say a line’s too cheesy.)

Dad: What’s cheesy?

Me: Like too sweet, or embarrassingly romantic.

Dad: How is it related to cheese? *starts pondering aloud* It’s not related to cheese. Cheese is sour and hard, and she likes cheese. Lots of people do. It’s a noun, why is it now an adjective?

Me: Dad. Let’s move on. If you don’t like it I’ll change the words.

Dad: I think cheesy is not even a real word. *goes from annoyed to angry in 0.2 seconds* Why do you keep making up words?? It’s not even a real word!

Me: *hormonal swing again* Daaaad

Dad: Come on explain the etymology. Silly kids, always making stuff up.

Me: *sobbing from pain and hormones* Just chuck it! I’m not even going to write anything. You can use your Wren&Martin and write your own words.

Mom: Shut up husband. It’s a word if she says it is. Darling, you can have a chocolate. Would you like some hot tea?

(Guess who was my favourite parent?)