(My sister and I are driving home from Lake Tahoe. It is cold there, and it’s cold where we’re from, but on the road it’s very hot. I am sweating, and decide to take off my pants. She can’t decide on music to listen to.)

Me: *looking through my iPod* “Have you heard this song by Willow Smith?”

Sister: “I don’t know, what is it?”

(I begin to play ‘I Whip My Hair back and Forth.’ We listen for a minute or so, and then I break out laughing.)

Sister: “What’s so funny?”

Me: “Just imagine how bad this would look to a cop. Me, a 20-year-old guy, sitting around in my underwear, sweating, and listening to an 8-year-old girl sing.”

Sister: *stares at me* “Yeah, you’re a creeper.”

(My extended family and I are having dinner. We are talking about how many times I have been carded since I turned 21 last October. FYI, Uncle #1 is in his 60s.)

Cousin: “By law, places are required to check the ID of everyone who looks under the age of 30.”

Uncle #1: “Oh, yeah? I went to the store and was carded just last week!”

Uncle #2: “Really? Were you asking for the senior discount?”

(There is a popular Kid’s TV Show in the UK called ‘Postman Pat’. It is about the adventures of a postman from the small village Greendale, and his cat, Jess. My three-year-old brother loves this show. My Mum has just answered the door to a postman delivering a package.)

Brother: “Are you Postman Pat?”

Postman: *completely deadpan and monotonous* “Yeah.”

Brother: “Where’s your cat?”

Postman: “Um…health and safety?” *shrugs and walks away*

Brother: *looks absolutely crestfallen*

Mum: *to my brother* “It’s okay! No one in Greendale is allergic to cats, so you can still see Jess when you watch him on TV!”

(I’m 22, and I am at my wedding reception.)

Mom: “Now, honey. You know you can always come talk to me whenever you’re having troubles.”

Me: “Okay, mom.”

Mom: “Especially after you decide to have children. I give great advice! When I worked at the hospital, all my coworkers there said I gave the best advice.”

Me: “Okay, mom. I’ll let you know.”

Mom: *leans in close to me, and starts to whisper loudly* “You know what you have to do to have babies, right?”

Me: “Yes mom, I know where babies come from…”

(My 3-year old daughter is counting out a bunch of her coins.)

Daughter: ”91, 92, 94!”

Me: “What happened to 93?”

(She begins looking around, very concerned.)

Me: “No, I mean you skipped 93.”

(She stares at me a moment, then stares at her line of coins. She suddenly points to a random coin and declares.)

Daughter: “93!”