(My mother is babysitting a little girl for her friend. The little girl has made a small mess in the living room whilst eating goldfish crackers.)
Mom: “Now you shouldn’t make such a mess!”
Little girl: “Why?”
Mom: “Because that’s not what you do at my house. If you do that, I won’t like you anymore and you can’t come back.”
(The little girl bursts into tears.)
Me: “Mom! You can’t say that to a little girl!”
Mom: “Well, it worked with you!”
(I am a gay male. We’re at a family night, and I’m with my two older brothers and their families as well as my boyfriend. My six-year-old nephew brings up an interesting topic during supper.)
Nephew: *to me* “Today, I was talking about you and [boyfriend], and my friend’s mom said I shouldn’t spend time with you anymore.”
Sister-in-law: “Why not, sweetie?”
Nephew: “Because they’ll turn me into a dirty gay. But you’re not dirty so…”
Mom: “Don’t worry honey, your uncle and [boyfriend] aren’t dirty, and they don’t turn you gay.”
Me: “Yeah, moms do that.”
(The table erupted into laughter, and apparently when Monday came around he actually told his friends mother that it’s moms who make people gay.)
(I live with my older brother in a townhouse. Because of this I usually take care of cooking and cleaning, but this time I leave him in charge of making dinner.)
Brother: “How do you cook hotdogs?”
Me: *blank stare; heavy sigh* “Okay, first you boil the water.”
Brother: “For how long?”
Me: “Until the water boils, then you put the hotdogs in, and boil the hotdogs.”
Brother: “I don’t get it.”
Me: “Boil the water, put the hotdogs in, boil the hotdogs.”
(He gives me a blank stare.)
Brother: “But wouldn’t the hotdogs already be boiled, right when I put them in?”
Me: “What? No, because when you put the hotdogs in the water stops boiling… you need to wait for it to boil again.”
Brother: “For how long?”
Me: “A couple of minutes… and if you want to be more precise, the hotdogs will start splitting.”
Brother: “So, I wait until they’re split?”
Me: “Yes…” *walking away* “I’m leaving now, and if I come back and the house isn’t here… I’ll understand why.”
Mother: “I’m so chagrined right now!”
Sister: “What’s ‘chagrined’ mean?”
Mother: “Annoyed.”
Sister: “Really? In what language?”
(I can hear shouting and screaming from my family in the kitchen.)
Me: “What is going on?”
Family: “Why?”
Me: “Because the only words I could make out of the ruckus were ‘anal fissure’, “motor-saw’ and ‘chicken’!”
