(I am in a very silly mood as I am talking to my sister.)
Me: *in the laundry-room* “We are going for the walk to the shops now.”
Sister: *in her room* “Are you sure?”
Me: “We can run if you like.”
Sister: “Do you know what happens when you run with a stomach full of milk?”
Me: “You make a milkshake?”
Sister: “And, do you know what happens when you make a milkshake?”
Me: “YOU BRING ALL THE BOYS TO THE YARD!”
(I am about 10 years old, and around the holidays I walk up to my mom.)
Me: “Mom, is Santa real?”
Mom: “Do you want presents for Christmas?”
Me: “Yes.”
Mom: “Then Santa’s real.”
(To this day I have never questioned the existence of Santa in front of my mom, and I am now 23!)
(I am at my mother’s helping her put up her Christmas decorations.)
Son: “Daddy, how come you got a fake tree?”
Me: “So it won’t make a mess, and grandma can use it again.”
Son: “Well, that’s not nice. Jesus would want a real tree.”
Grandma: “Well, grandma doesn’t want a real nice mess.”
Son: *yelling* “Why won’t you buy Jesus nice things?!”
(My youngest brother is 20 years younger than me. I take him around with me as I run errands. The week before New Years, I stop at the ABC liquor store with him in tow. He is awed by all of the creative bottles.)
Brother: “Are these potions?”
Me: “Yes, but only for grown-ups…”
(It’s Christmas. I’ve gotten my dad a CD collection of some of his favourite radio programs from the 1940s and 50s. I return to the family room after helping my mom in the kitchen to find my dad on his hands and knees in front of the stereo cabinet, trying to figure out how to play his present.)
Dad: *plaintively* “Help.”
Me: *kneels down* “Start by opening the tray.”
(I push the button and it pops out. Note that it’s a five-disc changer.)
Dad: “So, I put one in each slot?”
Me: “Yup! There you go. Just make sure you load them in order.”
Dad: “But if I put them all in at once, won’t it only play one side before going to the next one? Does it tell you when to flip it over?”
Me: “Erm, Dad, CDs aren’t like records. They only have one side.”
Dad: “Really? Isn’t that a waste of space?”
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