(I am two or three years old. My mom is pretty insistent that we go to church every week, but being a small child, I get bored easily.)

Me: “Mommy, I want to go home.”

Mom: “We’ll go home once the service is over.”

Me: “When will it be over?”

Mom: “Well, when the preacher gets done talking and sits down, we’ll sing and then we’ll have a prayer, and then we can go home.”

Me: “Okay.”

(There’s a slight pause, and then I stand up on my seat.)

Me: *as loud as possible* “YOU TALKED ENOUGH. YOU CAN SIT DOWN NOW.”

(My mom was mortified, but the preacher’s wife thought it was hilarious.)

(I’m fifteen now, but I was seven the last time I rode this same elevator with my grandma.)

Grandma: “Remember last time you were here?”

Me: “Yes?”

Grandma: “You did this.” *presses all of the elevator buttons*

(Unfortunately, this time, there were also a few other passengers with us!)

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(My parents are going out of town and leaving me alone for the weekend. My dad is going over some stuff with me, but I’m not really paying attention. I’m 16.)

Dad: “It is okay if you have some friends over; just no parties or anything.”

Me: “Uh-huh.”

Dad: “And make sure you clean up after yourselves.”

Me: “Uh-huh.”

Dad: “And if you guys use the gas fire-pit in the backyard, make sure not to leave the gas on for too long before you light it. Otherwise you’ll shoot a ball of fire into the sky.”

Me: “Uh-huh… wait. How do I shoot a fire ball into the sky?”

Dad: *to my mom* “We’re not leaving.”

(Our two-year-old has come to snuggle with us early one morning. I am between her and my husband.)

Me: “Kiss?” *puckers*

2 year old: “Yes mommy!” *kisses me*

Husband: “Kiss?” *puckers*

2 year old: *pauses, then turns my head toward my husband* “You kiss daddy.”

(My little brother is currently going through that phase where they put everything in their mouths. It is nearly impossible to keep roaches out of the house in Houston, no matter how well you clean, and my mother is deathly afraid of the things.)

Mom: *calling dad in hysterics* “Your son just ate a cockroach!”

Dad: “What? Really?”

Mom: *hysterically fast* “Yes! I found him on the floor and he had it in his mouth and I’m trying to identify body parts and I called the poison control people and they wouldn’t help and-”

Dad: “Huh. Well, that’s great!”

Mom: “What!?”

Dad: “I didn’t think he was coordinated enough to catch one!”