I was flying back home from an event in Florida, and a woman sat down in front of me with a screaming infant. “Oh, this is going to be fun,” I thought.

Right then another woman with an active infant sat down next to me. She looked at the woman in front, then leaned over and said, “I guess this is your lucky day!”

If had been drinking something, I surely would have done a spit-take, it was so funny. That comment alone would have made up for any annoyances due to the babies.

After take-off she found a seat surrounded by fewer people, while the other tyke stayed remarkably quiet through the rest of the flight.

The dog we had growing up was the sweetest, friendliest dog you could imagine. He loved people, and all of our neighbours knew him and loved him back. They didn’t know our names, but they knew our dog.

At one point we needed to move to another state temporarily for my dad’s work, and took the dog with us. Six months later my mum, sister, and I returned home to spend Christmas with our family and ran into one of our neighbours.

He came up to us and said he hadn’t seen our dog for a while, had he died? Mum had to inform him that no, the dog was very much alive, we’d just been living on the other side of the country for the last few months.

They had noticed our dog was no longer around and coming to visit, but none of them had noticed that our house was empty and my family wasn’t living there or going about our daily business.

(A boy and girl are going around the neighborhood, trick-or-treating. The boy is dressed as a Jedi Knight, the girl as Princess Leia. They go up to one house and ring the bell. When the door opens.)

Kids: “Trick or treat!”

Boy: “May the force be with you!”

(The homeowner pulls back the bowl of candy, and gestures with his hand at the boy.)

Adult: “These aren’t the treats you’re looking for.”

(The girl started to cry.)

When I was a little kid, my mom became the best friend of a woman who had a daughter around my age. The two of us would end up in forced playdates every time they wanted to hang out.

Since we both had terrible tempers and brought up the worst of each other, our relationship was tense at best and violent at worst. Our mothers didn’t seem to care. As we grew up, though, this changed. I realized that while we were sitting together on the couch, texting in silence. She looked up for a second and said, “This is way better than beating the crap out of each other with plastic golf clubs.”

I had to agree.

(My daughter was born with a large red birthmark on her face. As a result, rather than telling her she is pretty, a lot of people tell her she is clever, instead. When she is three, we are waiting in line at the grocery checkout. My daughter decides to sing a little song she’s made up about being a “clever girl.”)

Daughter: *singing* “I’m clever, clever, clever. I’m such a clever girl…”

(The man ahead of us in line, waiting with a boy of about seven years old, starts speaking in a mocking tone, which confuses me.)

Man: “Oooh, there’s a clever girl! Everyone, this one’s actually clever!”

(His son looks uncomfortable, which seems to inspire the dad to try harder.)

Man: “Come on, it’s a clever girl! Bet you’ve never met one of those before! So much cleverer than all the rest of us!”

(As I am trying to figure out if this guy is seriously trying to bully a preschooler, he turns around with a sneer.)

Man: “Oh, we should all be so impressed by the clever girl…”

(Then he sees my daughter, his face goes pale, and, grabbing his own kid, he leaves the line without another word to us. I guess because, apparently, he thinks it’s okay to mock most small children… but not the ones with visible birthmarks?)

Daughter: *happily oblivious* “I’m clever!”

Cashier: *smiling* “Yes, you are! Would you like a cookie?”