(It is early morning. My sister and I sitting in my dad’s car. I become silly when sleepy. My dad is not a morning person at all. A song comes on the radio that my sister loves.)

Sister: “Woo!” *starts singing along at the top of her lungs*

Dad: “All right. That is enough.”

Sister: “I’m just singing!”

Dad: “I don’t want to hear singing.”

Me: *in Darth Vader imitation* “He is your father…”

Dad: “More importantly, I control the radio!”

Me: “More important than being our father?”

*pause*

Dad: “Where singing is concerned, yes.”

(My mom has made it rather clear she doesn’t approve of me dating, even though I’m 17 and the rest of my family likes my boyfriend. I’m talking to my sister about dresses.)

Me: “I found this teal one I kind of like, but I think I’d rather get pink.”

Sister: “You’re going to make [boyfriend] wear pink?”

Mom: *butting in* “Prom’s not for two months. You know who you’re bringing already?”

Me: “Yeah. [Boyfriend].”

Mom: “Do you look at colleges as much as you look at dresses?”

(My dad is a teacher, and works in a school in a not-so-great area. Most of the kids he teaches come from one-parent homes.)

Mum: “I don’t understand why people say that homosexuality is too hard for young children to understand.”

Dad: “Exactly! All you’ve got to tell them is that some kids have a mummy and a daddy, some kids have two mummies and some have two daddies. Whereas most of the kids I teach have a mum, two or three ‘uncles’, and dad gets out of jail in a few years.”

(My family takes me out for sushi on my birthday. I begin to choke, and eventually manage to spit out an oversized piece.)

Mom: “Are you okay? How did you stay so calm?”

Me: *to my brother* “You just learned the Heimlich maneuver. Why did you just sit there?”

Brother: “Oh… well, it’s easier to wait until the person has blacked out.”

(I’m about 2 years old and at the beach with my mom. I’m throwing around sand and being a little loud. My mom tries to tell a white lie in order to get me to calm down by making up a story of a man who owns the beach.)

Mom: “If you don’t start behaving, Mr. Beach will come and tell you that you’re not allowed to come here ever again!”

(As soon as she says this, a rather obese man walks by in his swim suit.)

Me: *very loudly pointing and yelling* “IS THAT MR. BEACH?!”

(My mom never lied to me to get me to calm down again.)

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