(My dad is sitting at the breakfast table eating and reading the newspaper. Our newest dog is sitting next to him begging. My mom is just about to leave to run a few errands.)

Me: “So mom, where are you heading today?”

Mom: “To the hardware store to get a few screws. I lost a few and I really need to get some.”

(My mom and I giggle at her little jokes and puns, when my dad shouts in the background at the dog.)

Dad: *to our dog* “YOU’RE NOT GETTING ANY!”

Me: “DAD! THAT’S THE PROBLEM!”

Mom: *bursts out laughing*

(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.”

(I am sitting in the passenger seat with my dad driving and my mom in the back seat.)

Dad: *to me* “You have adjusted the seat as if you have long legs.”

Me: “I have a short torso and long legs. My friend has a long torso and short legs.”

Mom: “I am proportionally correct.”

Me: “It’s better to have short legs and long torso as a guy. Creates nice proportion when you’re a guy.”

Dad: “No such thing.”

Mom: “I am proportionally correct.”

Me: *wags my finger to my dad* “Someone contributed too much!”

Mom: “Must be your dad.”

Dad: “Okay, okay. It’s me.”

Mom: “I am proportionally correct.”

Dad: “I was being politically correct when I said okay.”

Mom: “Agree to disagree!”