(The children are hanging out in front of the TV.)

Mom: “Don’t hit your brother.”

Daughter: “But, dad told me to!”

Mom: “And you listened?”

Daughter: “Um, yeah! It was a chance to hit my brother!”

Mom: “So, what’s this we’re having for dinner?”

Grandma: “It’s… marinada…. marinade… Marijuana sauce!”

Me: “Grandma, it’s marinara sauce!”

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(I work at a clothing store. A young girl approaches my desk.)

Girl: “Hi, I need to, uh, return this stuff.”

(She slides a gift bag crammed with thongs across the counter. It has thongs of every, color, shape, and size – ranging from small to extra-large.)

Me: “Okay, this is an awful lot of underwear you, ah, need to return. Do you have a receipt?”

Girl: “No. It was a gift. From my dad.”

Me: “Your father bought you all of this?”

Girl: “Sure. He didn’t know which size to get.”

(I am working in a coffee shop and a mother comes in to make an order.)

Mother: “Yes, I would like to order one venti frappuccino. But can you pour it into two tall cups?”

Me: “No problem, ma’am.”

Mother: “This is for me and my daughter. We usually share our drinks.”

Me: “Not today, though?”

Mother: “Oh, no, never again. She is in middle school now. I don’t know who I’d be indirectly kissing.”

Me: *chuckles* “I see.”

Mother: “Yeah, she has been getting a lot of cold-sores lately, and I don’t need to go through that again!”

(I am shopping with my young son. I am talking to a male sales assistant.)

Me: “Hi, how are you, today?”

Sales Assistant: “Fine, and yourself?”

Me: “Not too bad.”

Son: “Mommy, is that going to be our new daddy?”

Me: “No, we are just talking.”

Son: “I don’t want a new daddy!” *starts crying*