My grandmother had five children. Her middle child, my aunt, was always a little different from the other four. She would often point out how she was the only blonde out of the five of them, and when the family got together, she seemed to remember her childhood differently than everyone else. The story about how one sister got in trouble for peeing in grandma’s dresser drawer but it turned out that it was [Aunt] who did it? That never happened. Grandpa never let them have a sandbox because they were unsanitary? There are many pictures of her playing in the sandbox he’d built in the backyard.

One of the things she liked to bring up a lot was the fact that she was the only child who wasn’t breastfed. Everything that happened to her in life was because she was bottle-fed. Bad grades? The bottle. Failed marriage? Breastmilk would have fixed that. Depression? Only people who were on the bottle can have that.

One evening, while the family was gathered for one reason or another, [Aunt] was once again loudly blaming all her woes on my grandmother’s choice to not breastfeed her when my grandmother finally had enough. There, in the middle of the living room for all to see, she suddenly ripped her shirt open, exposing herself.

Grandmother: “Would you like to start now?!”

[Aunt] never brought it up again.

My two younger siblings… don’t get along. My sister and brother bicker like cats and dogs. And they both never pass up an opportunity to screw each other over.

It’s Chinese New Year, and the entire family is at the Reunion Dinner. Traditionally, during this time, the older relatives will give Ang Pao, or red envelopes filled with money, to the children.

Given the sheer number of relatives we have — many of whom are fairly rich and generous — we individually rake in at least a thousand bucks in cash from the Ang Pao every year.

Naturally, given the risks of children carrying around huge sums of cash, our parents insist that until we are teenagers, we three siblings must immediately pass the cash to them and that they’ll deposit the corresponding amount of money into our bank accounts. (And even after I was thirteen, I kept passing the money for deposit until I was seventeen.)

But of course, as an eleven-year-old boy, my brother perceives this as his parents essentially “stealing” his “hard-earned” money and hiding it away, only giving out a pittance for his allowance. Never mind that [Brother] will waste it all buying trading cards if we do actually give it to him.

Anywho, we’re at the Reunion Dinner, and my siblings and I rake in the cash, as usual.

My brother is desperately hiding it from our parents, clutching his Ang Pao like babies, refusing to even let go of them to pick up cutlery.

Sister: “Hey, how about I hold onto your Ang Pao for you? I’ve got a handbag.”

Brother: “No! You’re just going to give it to Mommy!”

That’s a fair suspicion. [Sister] has done that trick at least thrice before, patiently waiting as the party drags on and [Brother] tires out, before surreptitiously handing the money to Mom while he’s dozing in the car.

Sister: “She won’t take it. She can’t take it from me. I’m already over eighteen.”

Brother: “No! You’re still going to give it to Mommy anyway!”

Sister: “I’ll pinky promise you.”

Brother: “No!”

Sister: “All right, I promise that if I ever give those Ang Pao to Mommy, I’ll give you my PC.”

Now, [Brother] perks up. [Sister] has just splurged a huge chunk of her savings on a custom-built, top-of-the-line gaming PC. It’s the envy of the entire family, especially [Brother], who has coveted one for years.

Naturally, I smell something fishy, and it’s not the seafood we’re eating. And from the looks of the rest of the family, they smell it, too. As I previously said, neither of my younger siblings will pass on an opportunity to screw each other over. So, everyone, including [Brother] himself, knows that the person who wants to steal [Brother]’s cash the most in the entire party is [Sister].

But at the same time, say what you will about [Sister], for all that she’s devious, mercenary, and backbiting, everyone knows that she keeps her promises — doubly so if there’s collateral involved, and triply so if the collateral is something like her PC.

Brother: *Sticks out his pinky* “Okay.”

They shake on it, and [Brother] hands over his Ang Pao.

Sister: *To Dad* “Here’s [Brother]’s Ang Pao money. Please put it in the bank for him.” *Hands them over*

Brother: “What?!”

Sister: *Grinning triumphantly* “I promised never to give your money to Mommy. You never said anything about Daddy.”

The entire family burst out laughing as [Brother] spluttered incoherently in rage.

My family is absolutely nuts about ice cream. We will eat it anytime and anywhere — yes, even in winter. 

One year, my family gathered at my parents’ house for the holidays. My younger son wanted ice cream following dinner. I told him if he didn’t stay in the kitchen to eat it, then he must take it to the sunroom. I knew he would pass my brother’s two young sons on the way. As he left the kitchen, I counted down out loud.

Me: “Three, two, one.”  

Nephews: “ICE CREAM! ICE CREAM!”

Brother: *To me* “Did you just count down?”

Me: “And you didn’t?”

When I was a kid, my dad and I were at Thanksgiving dinner with my dad’s girlfriend and her family.

Me: *Proudly* “Dad, both of your girlfriends have the same first name!”

Dad: “Oh, you’re just a little kid; you don’t know what you’re talking about!”

But I “reminded” him of [Girlfriend #2]’s full name. She happened to be a coworker of [Girlfriend #1]’s sister, so there was no doubting that she was a real person.

Several years ago, after Grandpa’s first stroke, my dad and grandpa went to a great big extended family reunion. It had been quite a while since they’d seen that side of the family. Grandpa wasn’t saying much because of the stroke, but his mind was as sharp as ever, so when he said something, people listened.

Grandpa: “I guess [Relative] finally gave up woodworking.”

Dad: “What makes you say that, Dad?”

Grandpa: “Well, he’s not missing any more fingers.”

Later, Dad decided to go talk to [Relative].

Dad: “My dad seems to think you’ve given up woodworking.”

Relative: *Surprised* “Well, yeah, but how’d he know about that?”

Dad: “He says it’s because you stopped losing fingers.”

Dad looked at [Relative]’s hands, and sure enough, [Relative] was missing several fingers.

Relative: *Indignant* “That’s not why I stopped! I stopped because my workshop burned down and my wife wouldn’t let me buy more tools!”

Relative’s Wife: *Cracking up* “I wouldn’t let you buy more tools so you’d stop losing fingers!”