(I‘m working registers when a family with two young boys, less than seven, comes up.)
Younger Boy: “Do you know who my best friend is?”
Me: “Um, is it your brother?”
Younger Boy: “Nah, he’s my super friend.”
Me: *playing along* “Of course! How silly of me. So who is your best friend?”
Younger Boy: “You are!”
(The rest of my day went by with me in a great mood because of him.)
(I am visiting my cousin and niece at their house. They are in the kitchen while I am in an adjacent room.)
Niece: “Daddy, can I have some ice cream?”
Cousin: “Sure thing. Don’t tell anyone else about this, okay?”
(At this point, I need something from the kitchen, so I walk in, just as my cousin is opening the freezer and taking out an ice cream carton.)
Me: “Hey there, [Niece]. What are you doing?”
Niece: “We’re getting… nothing from the freezer.”
(She held her arms out, as if to block me from seeing my very tall cousin prepare an ice cream cone.)
(It’s the weekend, and I’m sitting at the computer filling out a rather long job application, when my three-year-old son climbs in my lap and asks me to play with him.)
Me: “Sorry, buddy, I have to answer these questions first. Here, you can help me answer this one. What are my strengths? What is mommy good at?”
Son: “Um, hugging! And opening chips.” *gives me a hug* “And kissing.”
Me: “I’m glad you think so, because I love hugging you. Next question, what are my weaknesses?”
Son: “I don’t know.”
Me: “What am I not good at?”
Son: “Fighting! Flying! I don’t know. Can you play now?”
(When I told my husband about it later, his response was, “Well, he’s not wrong.”)
(When we are kids, my brother drops me off at middle school before he goes to high school. Every morning, we pass a police car at the same intersection, and every morning I happily wave to the police officer in the car. My brother always tells me to knock it off or he’ll pull us over, but I persist. A while later, my brother is in an accident and I have to take the bus while he is in the hospital. When he gets well enough to drive again, he wears his seatbelt in a very strange way because of his freshly-mended ribs. On our way to school we get pulled over.)
Officer: “Do you know why I pulled you over?”
Brother: “I’m sorry, Officer, but I’m not sure.”
Officer: “From the view in my car it seems like you’re not wearing a seatbelt. I now see you are wearing it, but in a very unsafe fashion.”
Brother: “I just broke my ribs in an accident a while back, and wearing the seatbelt normally hurts quite a bit.”
Officer: “I understand, but if you’re not well enough to wear your seatbelt properly then you shouldn’t be driving. I’m going to have to give you—” *suddenly noticing me* “Wait, are you the little girl that used to wave to me every morning?”
(I nod nervously. This is my first time being pulled over, so I must look terrified.)
Officer: “Well, it’s been a while! I was wondering where you went. I guess you were taking the bus while he healed from that accident, huh?”
Me: “Yeah, we even had to get a new car because the old one got ruined.”
Officer: “So that’s why I didn’t recognize you. That’s a shame; you always brightened up my mornings when you came by. You know what? You two go ahead today. You remind him to wear his seatbelt properly, will you?”
Me: “I will! I can’t promise he’ll listen, though.”
Brother: “I promise I’ll listen! I appreciate it, Officer.”
(I still waved at that officer every day until he moved locations. My brother never once complained after that.)
Mom: “What kind of ice cream do you want?”
Little Girl: “Blue!”
(After scooping her blue bubblegum ice cream, I hand it to the little girl and she runs off to sit and eat it at one of the nearby tables. Her parents and I focus on the rest of the family’s order, but a few minutes later we look over at her and see her face completely smeared with bright blue ice cream.)
Mom: “Oh, look at you! You’ve turned blue!”
Dad: *to me, slightly accusatory* “You’ve turned her into a Smurf!”
Me: “[Coworker], we better call [Boss]. We’ve had another Smurf incident!”
