(Our family are on vacation, driving to a rented beach house. My dad is driving, my mom in the front passenger seat, and I’m in the back with my little brother. I am 13 years old, and my brother is 10. We’re playing ‘Animal, Plant, Mineral’.)

Brother: “Komodo Dragon.”

Dad: “Nope.”

Brother: ” Okay, we give up. What is it?”

Dad: “A scorpion.”

Brother: “What!?”

Me: “I thought you said it was a reptile?”

Dad: “A scorpion is a reptile.”

Brother & Me: “No it isn’t!”

Me: “Scorpions are arachnids.”

Dad: “No, they’re reptiles.”

Me: “No, it has eight legs! Like a spider.”

Brother: “They’re bugs! They have exoskeletons and stuff!”

(This goes on for a few minutes with my brother and I throwing out all the reasons why a scorpion is an arachnid rather than a reptile, while our dad keeps insisting that he’s right. During this our mom is cracking up. Finally she turns to my dad and taps him on the arm.)

Mom: “They’re right. It’s an arachnid.”

Dad: “Oh.”

Brother: “Hah! Told you!”

Me: “How do you even mix those up!?”

Dad: “I’m driving! I have to pay attention to the road!”

(We are currently watching ‘The Avengers’, a movie which my aunt has not seen. It is at the part where Captain America, Thor, and Iron Man are fighting in a forest.)

Aunt: “Why don’t they just pull down their pants and compare sizes already?”

(I’ve recently gotten a job after spending a year being unemployed. My boss has been praising my work, and I’m telling my dad about it.)

Me: “It’s nice, you know? I’ve spent a year sending out applications, and most places didn’t even reply. I was beginning to give up, but now I feel like I have something to offer again.”

Dad: “Yeah, but remember applying and working are two different things. The applications always look good, but you won’t be able to prove yourself until you get the job. People always make themselves out to be a cross between Kal-El and Jesus Christ.”

(Dad pauses for a moment, and glances at me.)

Dad: “You know who know who Kal-El is, right?”

Me: *raises an eyebrow at him* “Dude. I’m your daughter.”

Dad: *grins* “Yep. Of course you know who he is.”

(I am six years old. It’s summer, and we’re all sitting on the back porch. My mother decides to spray spider poison in the eaves of the house.)

Mom: “Everyone hold their breath.”

(I dutifully hold my breath. My mom continues spraying for spiders along the perimeter of the house.)

Dad: *to me* “Are you okay?”

(I pass out. When I regain consciousness, everyone is hovering over me.)

Dad: “What happened?”

Me: “Nobody told me it was okay to breathe…”

(My mother, my little brother, and I are waiting in the dentist’s office. On the coffee table is a book full of pictures of different dental diseases. One of them is particularly graphic photo of a man with a thick long mustache, and rotted through, brown teeth. I show this picture to my little brother.)

Me: “See, if you don’t brush your teeth, your mouth will look like THIS!”

Little Brother: “Ah! No!”

(My little brother hides his eyes, trying to get away.)

Me: “Look at it; look at it!”

Little Brother: “No! Mom!”

Mom: “Stop scaring your brother.”

Me: “But I’m only trying to teach him to brush his teeth.”

Mom: “…really?”

Me: “Really.”

Mom: “Okay, fine…”

(I scare my little brother with the picture until he cries. Ten years later, he’s never even had a cavity!)