(A mother comes in with two young sons. One is about seven, and the other about four.)

Mother: “I got you both candy. Now, no more fighting in the car.

Me: *to the kids* “Fighting in the car? Uh oh. Do you know what happens to kids who fight in the car?”

Boys: “No. What?”

Me: “They get left at gas stations. And do you know what we do with kids who get left here?”

Boys: *wide-eyed* “What?”

Me: “We put them to work. And we don’t give them the fun jobs; we make them clean the toilet!”

(By now the mom is just laughing.)

Boys: “We don’t want to stay here!”

Me: “Yeah. We make the really bad kids clean the toilets with their tongues!”

(I look up to the mom.)

Me: “That might buy you 15 minutes of them not fighting!”

Mom: *to her boys* “Guess you’d better behave so you don’t get left some where.”

Boys: “We’ll quit fighting!”

(I overhear the following conversation between a boy who is about 12, and his grandmother.)

Grandmother: “What are you reading there?”

Boy: “The Hunger Games.”

Grandmother: “What’s that about?”

Boy: “Don’t worry Grandma. It’s about these kids who enter a Hungry Hungry Hippos tournament, and the winner wins a bag of candy!”

Grandmother: “Oh. That sounds nice!”

(I am a nighttime desk clerk at a hotel. Two teenage boys enter.)

Older Boy: “Yeah, we’d like a room for the night.”

Me: *suspicious* “Okay, I’ll need to see some ID.”

(The older boy hands over his ID.)

Me: “This says you’re only 17. I can’t give you a room unless you’re 18, especially if you’re checking in with someone else. Besides, I can’t even tell if this is you. The picture’s all smudged out.”

Older Boy: “Oh wait, that’s not my ID. It’s my twin brother’s ID.”

Me: “Your twin brother…”

Older Boy: “Yeah! I mean, can’t you see the family resemblance?”

(I am in the toy store with my boyfriend. It’s a Saturday, so it’s pretty crowded with children and their parents. We’re looking at the display of a new dinosaur toy series, when a tiny little girl in a pink ballerina outfit enters the store with her mother. The girl spots the dinosaur display from about 30 feet away, and comes running over.)

Little Girl: “Mommy! Mommy look! Dinosaurs!”

Her Mom: “I see sweetie. Do you want to spend some of your birthday money on the dinosaurs?”

Little Girl: “Yes! Can I have the T-Rex? Or the Triceratops?”

Her Mom: “How about one like the one this lady is buying?”

(The mom gestures to me and the velociraptor set I’m holding. I smile, and hold it at her level so she can see it. The little girl examines it carefully, and then slowly shakes her head.)

Little Girl: “It’s a little too scary. Can I have the T-Rex?”

Her Mom: “Sure sweetie, it’s your birthday money after all.”

(She hands her daughter the T-Rex box, which is nearly as big as she is. Her older brother, who looks about 13, offers to carry it for her.)

Little Girl: “AWESOME! Dinosaurs!”

(Clutching the box, she starts skipping towards the cash with her older brother, twirling and spinning like a ballerina the whole way.)

Her Mom: *sees us laughing* “My little ballerina. She’s been stealing her brother’s toy dinosaurs since she was one!”

(The adorable, dino-loving ballerina made my day!)

(It’s a slow day in the store, so one of my coworkers starts chatting with me while I clean the floor. The topic of conversation shifts to my hobby, which is writing.)

Coworker: “So, [name], what sort of things do you like to write?”

Me: “Oh, I dabble in a bit of everything, really. But mostly, I like to write fantasy.”

Coworker: *excitedly* “You mean, like sexual fantasies?!”

Me: *taken aback* “Umm… no. Like dragons and wizards. Think like Harry Potter or Lord Of The Rings. That kind of fantasy.”

Coworker: *disappointedly* “Oh… that’s weird.”