I’m visiting my aunt and my younger cousin who’s not quite five years old. My grandma gave me the nickname “Critter” while my mother was still pregnant with me and has called me that through my entire life, and my aunt has called me that my entire life, as well, only using my name when I am in trouble.

We realize my cousin doesn’t know my name because she asks my cousin, “Hey, can you go ask [My Name] if he’s going to stay for dinner?” My cousin looks at her like she grew a second head. It takes her a couple minutes to realize what the problem is and she just bursts out laughing.

My aunt comes out of the kitchen with my cousin behind her, points to me, and asks, “What’s his name?”

My cousin says, “Critter,” and my aunt has to grab onto the wall to stop herself from falling over laughing.

She explains to me what’s making her laugh and I fall out of my chair laughing. My cousin is looking at us both like we’re crazy, but he starts laughing at us because we’re both having trouble breathing at this point.

We have to talk to him for almost an hour to convince him that Critter isn’t actually my name; it’s a nickname, just like he has a nickname.

Even now, almost three years later, every so often my aunt points at me and asks my cousin, “Hey, what’s his name?” Now he actually says my name when she asks him, but he still only calls me Critter.

(It’s the holiday season, and this year, my younger brother and I have decided to spend our own money to buy Christmas presents for our family, including our three younger cousins. As we’re high school students and our only jobs are as baseball umpires, we don’t have a ton of money, but it’s enough to get my five-year-old cousin a stuffed dinosaur and my twelve-year-old cousins sunglasses. I’m slightly concerned because the gifts were relatively inexpensive; our cousins are very demanding and spoiled, and their parents and our grandparents feed right into that. On Christmas Day, this happens when we go to open presents.)

Twelve-Year-Old Cousin #1: “A pair of sunglasses! Ooh!” *tries them on and says, angrily* “But these are made of plastic and aren’t [Really Expensive Brand]. I don’t like them!” *throws them on the ground*

Twelve-Year-Old Cousin #2: “Cheap, cheap, cheap! Good thing we have other presents that I actually like.” *tosses her sunglasses into the garbage can*

Twelve-Year-Old Cousin #1: “Mom, can we go get [Really Expensive Brand] tomorrow? Please, please!”

Aunt: “Yes, of course, dear. We’ll make this okay.” *glares at brother and me*

Five-Year-Old Cousin: “Daddy, I don’t like my dino! Get me a new one now!” *throws the dinosaur across the room*

Uncle: “Of course, buddy. We don’t want you to have things you don’t like.”

Five-Year-Old Cousin: “Yay!” *blows a raspberry at brother and me*

Aunt: “You two have ruined my children’s Christmas! I hope you’re happy with yourselves!”

Mom: “[Aunt], the boys spent their own money, and [My Name] even drove them to get it. It was what they could afford.”

Aunt: “Don’t make excuses for them! They shouldn’t be such cheapies! My children will always have plenty of money to spend on only the nicest things.”

Mom: *opens mouth to argue but instead says nothing*

Grandmother: “Let this be a lesson to you boys. If you don’t have enough money for something, go ask your parents for it. You know perfectly well that they’re wealthy, and I’m sure they wouldn’t have minded. Because of you, Christmas is ruined.”

(This wasn’t the only incident of favoritism shown toward my cousins. Because of issues like this, my extended family and I are not very close, which is too bad because I had a great holiday aside from that.)

(It’s the week before Christmas and our neighbour from across the road has just come over. We’ve lived in our current home for over 15 years.)

Neighbour: “Here you go, as always.”

(He hands my dad a card, marked with our neighbour’s address but my dad’s name.)

Dad: *sighs* “Thanks, mate.”

Me: “Who’s that from?”

Dad: “My cousin. Always sends their Christmas card to number two.”

(We’re number one and have been the entire time we’ve lived here.)

Me: “But we’ve lived here for over a decade.”

Mum: “I know. But they never seem to take the hint from the return address on the envelope.”

(This year, Mum’s writing our address in the card! See if that breaks the fifteen-year streak.)

(I’m visiting my extended family for the holidays. Nobody bothered to get things ready for the upcoming party, so a handful of my relatives and I are hectic, running around the house, cooking and decorating. Since we’re so busy, my young cousin is left without supervision in the living room, and is currently drawing gigantic circles on the wall.)

Me: “[Cousin]! Look at this mess! You can’t just go and draw such big circles on the walls!”

Cousin: “Sowwy…”

(I leave and come back sometime later. He’s still drawing circles, but this time, they’re the size of pennies.)

Me: “[Cousin], stop that! Your dad will be mad!”

Cousin: “Okay.”

(I left and came back yet again. He was nowhere to be seen, but he’d left a message on the wall. It read, “Don’t be mad, Daddy.”)

(My cousin who’s working in China calls me.)

Cousin: “Hey, cuz, my debit card doesn’t work in China. Could you please buy me a ticket to fly back from Hong Kong to Singapore and I’ll pay you back later?”

Me: “Sure, just give me your passport number.”

(Since everybody calls him by his English name, I buy a ticket for Jon [Surname] without thinking about it. On the day of his flight, I get a frantic call from the Hong Kong airport.)

Cousin: “I’m having a problem checking in. My ticket says Jon [Surname].”

Me: “So?”

Cousin: “My passport says [Surname] [Chinese name].”

Me: “Dude, how was I supposed to know Jon isn’t your legal name? I didn’t even know your Chinese name!”

(Fortunately, he managed to convince the airline staff that he was the same person, and at least the passport number matched.)