Mothers Are Friends, Not Food

(My sister and I have met for lunch. Throughout our meal, she keeps fidgeting in her seat and wincing. I finally ask her if she’s okay.)

Sister: Oh! Yeah. It’s nothing, just…

(She glances around and lowers her voice.)

Sister: “My son bit me yesterday. On the a**.”

Me: “… What.”

Sister: *sighs* “He had just watched Finding Nemo and was pretending he was a shark. I was fixing him a snack afterward, and he just… snuck up behind me and…” *makes chomping sound*

Me: *stifling laughter* “I’m sorry. That’s not funny… but it kind of is!”

Sister: “I’m just glad I was wearing jeans and not sweatpants!”