(I try to keep my Spanish skills up to date by practicing along with a CD in my car. It says a phrase in English, and then repeats it twice in Spanish. I’m getting my kids ready to go shopping with me and we are leaving the house.)

10-Year-Old: “Mom, should I bring my purse?”

Me: “Um, sure, in case you want to buy something besides shoes, but you don’t have to pay for your own shoes.”

8-Year-Old: “I don’t know where my money is!”

Me: “Don’t worry about it. I’ll pay for the shoes.”

10-Year-Old: “I might want something else! Can I borrow some money?”

(We get in the car and I turn it on. The CD immediately starts playing.)

CD voice: “Children depend on their parents for money.”

All Of Us: “WHOA… Weird!”

(This happened to my grandfather in the 60s. He is out with a few friends late at night and they all decide it would be fun to pee against the City Hall. My grandfather claims he didn’t have to go but decides to join them anyway. Of course, a police officer shows up and they all run, except for some reason my grandfather doesn’t.)

Grandfather: “I’m really sorry about this. I didn’t really need to go but all my friends did it.”

Police Officer: “I see. Where do you live?”

Grandfather: *points across the street* “Right over there.”

Police Officer: “Well, I wasn’t going to write you up, but now it seems I have to!”

(He got a fine for 10 Deutschemark!)

(My mom has invited her coworker and coworker’s kids, a girl aged eight or nine and a boy aged six or seven, over for coffee. I’m 18 and my little sister is 11, and we are told to entertain the kids while Mom and the coworker talk over coffee. First we play board-games, but the boy is rapidly losing interest and throwing the die around the room, so we need to look for it after his every turn. Finally…)

Boy: *screams in frustration* “Aaaaaaaaargh!”

(My little sister looks at me desperately. The boy’s sister seems slightly irritated, but does nothing.)

Me: “Okay, why don’t we watch some videos now?”

Boy: *suddenly completely calm* “That’s exactly what I meant.”

(That’s how I learnt I can speak Screaming Child. The coworker asked me if I was interested in babysitting, but somehow I didn’t feel motivated to try it.)

(I am crocheting at the library and a boy about four or five stands beside me and watches. He is being very good about not touching and just watching politely, so I don’t mind.)

Boy: “Ma’am, what are you doing?”

Me: “I’m crocheting a blanket for a friend’s baby.”

Boy: “Oh, may I watch?”

Me: *completely charmed by such a polite child* “Sure.”

(After a bit his mom calls him and he runs up to her.)

Boy: “Mom! That lady is… is… cro-s**ting!”

(I had just screwed up an easy part three times in a row so he had no idea how right he was. That is now my go-to word when I can’t get a piece to work!)

(I’m 12 and at my best friend’s house the morning after a slumber party. We’re getting ready to go out grocery shopping with her dad and she’s put on some tie-dye wrap pants with Gaelic symbols all over them. I’m impressed because it’s different and with my severe anxiety, that’s not been diagnosed yet, I would never be able to go out with that.)

Me: “Wow, those are cool. Are you really going out in that?”

Her: “Why not?”

Me: “Well, most people don’t go out with Gaelic designs li—”

Her: *shouting* “GAY IS NOT AN INSULT AND I HATE PEOPLE WHO USE IT THAT WAY. I DON’T EVER WANT YOU TO USE THAT LANGUAGE AROUND ME EVER AGAIN. I DIDN’T THI–”

Me: “Wait, wait! I said Gaelic, not gay. But for the record I agree.”

(I was grinning like an idiot because that was the moment I knew we would be best friends. After ten years, moving away, and dropping out of high school we’re still close as ever.)