When I was about six, my cousin told me that if you take a plug and insert it only halfway into a receptacle and THEN take a pocketknife and touch it to it, that it would make sparks. When you’re six, sparks are really awesome, so… the next day at home, I decided to give this great idea a try.

I touched the knife to the prongs and… nothing. So, I went with a kind of ‘sawing’ motion on the prongs and WHOA… There was a flash and a bang. The wall was black three feet up, and the wallpaper was burnt. The knife blade had been melted by both of the prongs over halfway through the blade.

It didn’t hurt me a bit. The pocketknife had a wooden handle, so that was the only way it didn’t kill me.

My dad comes rushing into the room (loud bang, remember?) and I go running over to him, crying, expecting an a** whooping.

When he saw what I had done and that I was okay, he was so relieved, but said:

Dad: “God said that you don’t die today, so I will respect his wishes. But if you try anything that stupid ever again, I’m gonna kill ya!”

I was obviously grounded, which, now that I think back on it, might be a clever pun.

I never did anything like that again. Whenever I tell my dad I’m going anywhere or doing anything adventurous, he always reminds me not to do anything stupid and get myself killed… or he’ll kill me.

I’m watching the news when my kid cousin (five years old) wanders in and watches part of it with me. It’s some news about war and stuff, and my cousin says:

Cousin: “Are they talking about all the naughty kids?”

Me: “No? What would they be talking about, naughty children?”

Cousin: “Dad says if I misbehave too badly, he’s gonna sell me to the Russians. They’re talking about them on TV.”

Me: “Uh huh…”

Cousin: “What are Russians?”

The news is showing an image of Moscow and people in the street.

Me: “Those are Russians.”

Cousin: “But those are just people?”

Me: “Uh-huh. We’re Americans who live in a country called America; they’re Russians who live in a country called Russia.”

Cousin: “Oh. That doesn’t sound so scary.”

Me: “They don’t have any McDonald’s over there.”

Cousin: “Okay, that’s scary…”

He continues to behave to this day…

When I was younger, my immediate family went on a trip together with our cousins. It had been one of my cousin’s birthdays a couple of days beforehand, and we had had some leftover birthday cake before going out for the day. The one I am telling this story about was seven at the time. 

During the trip, we passed an ice cream shop:

Cousin: “I want ice cream!”

Aunt: “No, you can’t have ice cream. You already had cake.”

Cousin: “You know, this is how revolutions start.”

We’re at a family cookout. One of my cousins is on a health kick, and everything she eats is vegan and free of gluten, sugar, lactose, and taste. She’s made a vegan meatloaf and presented it in the middle of the table among all the other food, where it is being, unsurprisingly, ignored.

My teenage son, who is a bit of a bleeding heart, feels sorry for my cousin, so cuts a slice off and brings it over to the table to eat with us.

He takes one bite, and after a single chew, gives me a wide-eyed look. I pass over a napkin, and he spits out the bite and says between noises of disgust.

Son: “That’s nuttier than squirrel s***!”

I’d normally chastise him for using language, but I was laughing hard. I later gave my dad a little slap on the wrist, as it was obvious where he’d learned such a phrase from…

The last name in the story has been changed for privacy. 

I worked with one of my boyfriend’s cousins over the time we were engaged, and for a bit after we were married. She’s not a terrible person, but she has overly strong family ties that border on creepy, in my opinion, but then some families are closer-knit than mine. 

At one of my bridal showers, we were discussing doing an outing as ladies in the next few weeks, and I mentioned how I would need to get off work. Usually, we could not be off at the same time, so she said:

Cousin-In-Law: “Well, since I am a true Wilson, I should be the one allowed to get off work for this because it’s my family.”

No one blinked an eye. My mother was rightfully horrified that someone would say this to my face and was about to throw hands until I told her:

Me: “It’s happened before and being quiet is the best way to deal with it.”

This statement was made multiple times over the course of our engagement, where she informed me I would “never be a true Wilson”. One day I snapped and looked her dead in the eyes after she said it and stated:

Me: “Well, at least my children that I birth will be true Wilsons; yours won’t.”

I have never heard her say I’m not a true Wilson again.