(We are out at a family dinner, and we happen to be near my uncle’s office. He is reminiscing about a sandwich shop he used to visit for lunches.)

Uncle: “They used to have the best bread! Used to have a salad bar, too; I’d use the cucumber slices and make the plate bigger, get twice as much salad. You do that, and get a water glass and fill it with soda, and it’d be a good meal. They used to give out those punch cards, you know, to buy four sandwiches and get the fifth free? I’d take them off my coworkers’ trays and just copy the other punches to fill out the cards. It was such good food. I wonder why they went out of business?”

Cousin: “Because of theft, probably.”

Uncle: “They were robbed? When?”

Mom: “My aunt [Aunt] was addicted to coke.”

Me: “What?!”

Mom: “Yeah, there was a machine at the gas station across the street from her house.”

Me: *relieved* “Oh.”

(I’m on vacation with my grandparents. My grandpa and I are having a drink with my uncle and his girlfriend who are staying for a few days at the house we’re staying in. We are talking about how I’ve been doing graphic design commissions the past few months. My grandpa asks my uncle if he has any tips for me since he is an established artist, known for putting popular people in pink clothing in his paintings.)

Grandpa: “Do you have any advice for him to get himself out there at all?”

Uncle: *to me* “You said you were advertising on Twitter and stuff, right?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Uncle: *to my grandpa, chuckling* “Yeah, I got nothing. He’s actually already doing more than me.”

(Years ago, my aunt generously invited me, my two cousins — our age group was somewhere around five or six — and all our parents to come spend time with her and then to go to Disneyland. This was a very expensive gift from her, even decades ago. However, when we get there, my cousins decide they don’t want to go to Disneyland; they want to go to Magic Mountain. They start whining about it. I have never been to Magic Mountain OR Disneyland before, so I am curious about both. My cousins begin to whine so much that we are all asked separately:)

Aunt: “[Our Names], would you like to go to Disneyland, or Magic Mountain?”

All Of Us: “Magic Mountain.”

Aunt: “Well, you know, I’ve actually already paid for the tickets to Disneyland.”

(I apparently thought about that, then shrugged:)

Me: “Oh. I didn’t know that. Okay then, let’s go to Disneyland. I’d like to go to Disneyland too.”

Cousins: “I don’t care! Disneyland is for babies! We want to go to Magic Mountain!”

(My cousins whined and complained the entire time we were at Disneyland, about how boring it was, how it was for babies, and how Disneyland stunk. I do remember how even I got thoroughly sick of their complaining, and told my parents that I didn’t want to wait in line with my cousins anymore. I had a great time, and even got a stuffed toy and some activity books from one of the stores. My cousins complained so much, and hated the Disney trip so much that they didn’t get anything. Years later, I learned that while I was invited to visit my aunt and occasionally go to the various theme parks over the years — I’ve been to Disneyland, Universal Studios Hollywood, and Magic Mountain while growing up — my cousins were never invited back. It’s also a family saying to tell my cousins, “You would be bored at Disneyland, so stop complaining!”)

(I am around seven and have just moved to our family’s “nest,” a few blocks of the city housing several relative’s families. I’m not actually related to any of them; they are all stepfamily. There are several cousins near my age, mostly boys. Since I’m a girl, the only girl among them is really looking forward to meeting me because none of the boys want to play with girl toys, so I am greeted with a ton of girl toys, half of them newly bought. Unfortunately, what they didn’t know was that I am a huge tomboy, so we take the toys back to the store. That girl cousin’s mom, my aunt, tags along with us because it’s all her money.)

Aunt: “Why can’t you be normal and play with girl toys?!”

Me: “Girl toys are yuck!”

Aunt: “Then who is my daughter going to play with?”

Mom: “Who is she playing with now?”

Aunt: “The adults, sometimes classmates.”

Mom: “Look. I’m sorry, but I can’t control what my kid likes.”

Aunt: “She isn’t even your kid!”

Mom: “She’s my husband’s kid, therefore mine!”

(I run off with dad to find toys I like. I only remember my aunt simply leaving before we get back. After that, she tries her best to have her daughter not be really a part of the nest and always has an excuse not to bring her around, even on holidays. This goes on until we are in our teens. My cousin suddenly appears at our apartment door. The first thing we notice is her very short hair.)

Cousin: “I had a fight with Mom.”

Dad: “What happened?”

Cousin: “I got my hair like this.”

Dad: “Oh, I see.”

Cousin: “My mom pushes too many girly things on me! I hate it!” *to me* “I know I haven’t really played with you nor any of the boys before, but perhaps we could find something we both like? My mom’s an idiot. I could have played with all our cousins if she didn’t teach me to be girly all my life.”