(I live in British Columbia and my boyfriend is from Ontario, but is coming back for school. He is supposed to come back at the beginning of August, and I haven’t seen him in three months. He’s also known for not being expressively romantic or sweet.)

Boyfriend: “I’m not going to be leaving until Friday now.”

Me: “What?! At this point it feels like you’re never coming back.”

Boyfriend: “I know, and that sucks, because I’m really excited to see you.”

Me: “That was surprisingly sweet.”

Boyfriend: “I have my moments.”

Me: “No you don’t.”

Boyfriend: “I have a contract that states I must be nice to people at least twice a year.”

(There are four of us in the truck driving home: my husband, our two teen daughters, and I. I let out a loud belch. A couple of minutes later, one of our daughters sneezes. My husband proceeds to yell to our other daughter.)

Husband: “Erin, fart!”

(My little sister has just finished baking a batch of gingerbread men. Because she put them on different shelves in the oven, some have come out more brown than others.)

Me: “How come they’re different colours?”

Sister: “Oh, some of them are Mexican.”

Me: “Okay… so where do the other ones come from?”

Sister: “Canada.”

Me: “What? Why Canada?”

Sister: “No one cares if you eat Canadians.”

(My girlfriend’s sister is very into nature and loves most animals. On the way to the grocery store, we have taken a detour into an overgrown area to try some wild berries. The conversation takes place in the car, afterward.)

Girlfriend: “I have the tiniest slug ever on my skirt.”

(I glance over to see a speck on her skirt, maybe a few millimeters long.)

Me: “Aww, that’s kinda cute!”

Girlfriend’s Sister: “Lemme see! Can I hold it?”

(My girlfriend very carefully lifts the slug up and puts it on her sister’s finger.)

Girlfriend’s Sister: “He’s the tiniest slug ever! You’re so cute; yes you are!”

(This continues while my girlfriend jokingly grumps that she got ‘nature’ on her, and we chat about various slug-related experiences. After a few minutes, the sister pauses)

Girlfriend’s Sister: “His eye-stalks haven’t moved the whole time I’ve been holding him.”

(She holds it up for a closer look.)

Girlfriend’s Sister: “This isn’t a slug; it’s a blackberry seed.”

(I take it back and flick it out the window.)

(My mom is 49 and I’m 23. I look my age, but mom looks more like an older sister than like my mother. We are browsing jewelry in a body piercing shop.)

Sales Person: “Anything I can help you ladies find today?”

Me: “My mom here is looking for a new crystal stud for her ear piercing.”

Mom: “Yeah, I’ve been wearing a hoop in it for so long, but I really like the one that my daughter got here, so I think I’d like one like it.”

Sales Person: “YOU’RE A MOM?! YOU’RE HER MOM?! WHAT?!”

Me: “Yup, that’s my mom.”

Sales Person: “There’s no way! Absolutely no way you have a kid that old!”

Mom: “Well… I’m 49, and I had her when I was 26.”

Sales Person: “Nu-uh! You’ve gotta be like 30. Maybe 35 tops! No way she’s your kid! I mean, did you adopt or something?”

Mom: “If I did then the 14-hour labour I went through with her was a very vivid hallucination.”

Sales Person: “I don’t believe you! You’ve gotta be lying!”

Mom: *takes out her ID* “Hon, I was born in ’64. If I was going to lie about my age, wouldn’t I be going the other way?”