(My sister and I are discussing TV shows we like.)

Sister: “…and then there’s that Sherlock guy; what’s his name? Balthasar Cucumbersandwich?”

Me: “You mean Benedict Cumberbatch?”

Sister: “I hear no difference.”

(My two-year-old daughter starts pointing at the TV.)

Daughter: “Buffer, buffer!”

Me: *after a moment’s thought* “Do you mean you want me to pause the movie while you go potty?”

Daughter: “Yeah, pause. Buffer!”

(My young son is in the backseat chattering nonstop; he is trying to drive me crazy. I come up with something to make him stop for a second.)

Me: “Hey, why don’t you have a silent contest with your imaginary friends.”

Son: “Okay… I win!”

Me: “That was fast.”

Son: “They didn’t care.”

(My family is having reheated leftovers for lunch. We’re all a little hyper.)

Little Brother: “Why does my spaghetti taste funny?”

Me: “The microwave cursed it. Now you have been cursed.”

Little Brother: “And my children? And my children’s children?”

Older Brother: “But not the children after that.”

Little Brother: “What about those children’s children?”

Older Brother: “Hmm… some of them. It’s like—what’s the number sequence where it’s one, then one, then two…”

Little Brother: “The Fibonacci sequence.”

Older Brother: “That. That’s how it goes.”

(My older brother proceeds to launch into a highly mathematical explanation of how it will be determined which of my little brother’s descendants will be cursed.)

Older Brother: “So yeah, that’s how I cursed you… wait. Was I the one that cursed him?”

(We’re on vacation in London, for the first time. All my brother has done is stay inside and play video games for about two days, even if we invite him out elsewhere. My parents and I have just got back from a day of sightseeing.)

Brother: “Why’d you leave me? Stop leaving me! I don’t want to be alone!”

Me: “We invited you when we left; you said no.”

Mom: “You know, honey, you could come with us when—”

Brother: “No.”

Dad: “Don’t interrupt your mother! How about we go for dinner in the—”

Brother: “No!”

Me: “What do you want to do, then?”

Brother: “Play my game. It got to a good part!”

Me: “But… we’re in London, and for the first time. We’re probably not going to go again, and you play your game?”

Brother: “Sorry, what’d you say? It went to a cut-scene so I didn’t hear you. Hey, can we go to McDonalds for dinner?”

Mom: “All the places in London and you choose American fast food.”

Brother: “Please?”

Mom, Dad, & I: “NO!”

Brother: “Cut-scene again. What?”