(I work at a park that contains, among other things, a go-kart track and a mini-golf course. The park has a reputation for being family-friendly. I usually run the go-kart track, but the cashier is running late so I am at the register. Two teenagers walk in; they look about 16 years old.)

Customer #1: “We would like children’s mini-golf.”

Me: “I’m really sorry, but I can only sell children’s golf tickets to children 12 and under. Would you like to pay as an adult?”

Customer #2: *infuriated* “But we are 12!”

(I see that they are clearly over 12 years old, but I sell children’s golf to them anyway, to avoid causing a disturbance.)

Me: “I’m sorry about that; I just assumed you were over 12.”

(They give me the most ominous look of anger as I hand them the equipment. About two hours later I am called to the front after finishing a go-kart ride.)

Coworker: “I just received an interesting call.”

Me: “Oh, no…”

Coworker: “It was this girl’s mom. She was screaming at the top of her lungs about you discriminating against her daughters and insulting them. She said you should be fired and she’s never coming back.”

Me: “Um… They were teenagers trying to pass off as children.”

Coworker: “Well, if I was a 12-year-old girl and somebody thought I was 16, I would be ecstatic.”

(I’m 31, going to the Harry Potter amusement park in Florida. My brother and I buy the special wands where you can do “magic” in certain parts of the park. We notice in the newer Diagon Alley you can do it pretty easily, but in the older Hogsmeade, it’s a lot harder, maybe because of dirty windows or bad placement of the sensors. I stumble on a girl who is maybe ten, and her dad. The girl is almost in tears because she can’t get the special wand she got to work.)

Me: *running up to the girl* “If it’s okay with you and your daddy, can I teach you some things I learned? I know it’s hard. I’ve been here all day, but I’ve learned a few tricks.”

Girl’s Dad: “It’s okay.”

Girl: “Okay.”

Me: “Okay. Stand right here. See what it’s telling you on that little medallion? Copy the motions.”

(She tries a couple times and it’s still not working; she’s getting frustrated.)

Me: “No, no, it’s okay. You just need to think really hard, and it’s all in the wrists!”

(I say this really loud and start looking around at other people who may have wands.)

Me: “Keep at it! Focus!”

(At this point, an army of wand-wielding people has gathered right behind us, out of her line of vision, trying to get the sensor to work. It finally works. I give them the thumbs up, then give them a signal to disperse so the girl won’t realize it might not have been her. They all walk away, practically doing casual, “Oh, look at that detail in the village,” looks. The girl runs up to her dad.)

Girl: “I did it! I did it! Did you see it?!”

Me: “See? You are a witch! I knew it! Great job!”

Dad: *to me* “You are awesome!”

Me: “Oh, I didn’t do anything. She did! By the way? What house?”

Girl: “Gryffindor!”

Me: “Slytherin. Guess we aren’t all bad, huh? See you, sweetie!”

(I will never let a kid lose their imagination, even if I have to build an army on the quick to keep it running.)

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(I order a coffee from a kiosk, and go to the pickup window to get it. Just as I pick it up, the man next to me turns around, smashing his backpack into me, and spilling half of the coffee. He then stands there, unmoving, with his backpack inches from my nose. I lift the flap on his backpack, and pour in the rest of the cup.)

Me: *I ask the barista as I take out my wallet again* “May I have another coffee, just like the last one?”

Barista: *with a grin* “Absolutely, but you sure aren’t going to pay for it; that was awesome! Come pick it up at the order window; his backpack’s probably full by now.”

(This is back when my late husband is three or four years old. His family goes to another state to a well-known amusement park as a treat. While his parents’ backs are turned, he runs away. Being only four years old, my late husband is as fearless as our three-year-old daughter is now. When his mother finds out he was missing, they have security and many employees look for him, while she is beside herself, scared that her son is missing, or worse, kidnapped. They finally find him by one of the attractions, and while she is so mad at him, she can’t help but cry and hug him, prompting questions from him, and a silly answer.)

Husband: “Mama, why are you crying?”

Mother: “I was so scared!”

Husband: “But why were you scared? I’m okay!”

Mother: “We didn’t know where you were!”

Husband: “But, Mama! I knew where I was the whole time!”

(From what I understand, his entire family laughed so hard he didn’t get into trouble for that, but they have never gone back to that park since. When this was told to me, my reaction went from shock to laughing so hard I fell off the chair onto the floor, and my husband laughed right along with me. Knowing the memories of him like that makes me smile from time to time. Then, I have to remember I have his mini-me.)

(We love the ducks at [Theme Park]. My wife tends to call out when one is trying to get across a crowded walkway, just to give people a heads-up to watch where they are going.)

Wife: *gleefully* “Duck Crossing!”

Teenager: “Oh! Look at all the chickens!”

Wife: “Ducks.”

Teenager: *to friend* “So many chickens!”

Wife: *losing all belief in our school system* “Ducks…”

Duck: *flies two yards to avoid getting trampled, starts pecking popcorn*

Teenager: *to friend* “Did you know [Theme Park] had chickens?!”

Duck: “Quack!”

Wife: *to the duck* “I know, right?”