We’re at a family gathering, and I grabbed my father something from the snack table. He thanks me. I’m a bit hyper, so I say:

Me: “Who is your favourite daughter born on [date]?”

Father: *Laughing.* “You are!”

Grandmother: “[Father’s Name]! I thought I raised you better! You play favourites?!”

Father: *Confused.* “Eh… do I have another daughter born on [date]?”

Grandmother: “You just said [My Name] is your favourite!”

Father: “Well… she is my favourite daughter who is born on [date]. And [My Sister] is my favourite daughter born on [her birth date].”

Grandmother: “Hmph! Don’t make me catch you giving [My Name] special treatment over [Sister]!”

Dad and I looked at each other… and just grinned. My grandmother would never admit she was wrong, but it’s good to know she’s looking out for us.

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 discussing a family gathering happening next week.

Mom: “Oh, you’ll need to go pick up your aunt and Grandma.”

Me: “Huh? Why? They can drive.”

Mom: “Yeah, but with gas prices being what they are, we’ve decided to just use the one car.”

Me: “So, my car? I don’t see why I should be driving them when they’re the ones who voted for the guy who did this to the gas prices.”

Mom: “You should be happy! They’re both so angry about the gas prices, they said they wouldn’t vote the same way next time.”

Me: “Oh, yay. Bombing children, starting wars, attacking human rights of the marginalized, and being best friends with THAT guy weren’t an issue, but gas prices is where they draw the line? Yeah, I wasn’t going to pick them up before, but I’m definitely not now.”

CONTENT WARNING: Violence, Injury Detail

I was a young kid the year my dad was diagnosed with diabetes, so no delicious pie and treats for him at the big family gatherings. My dad’s brother (my uncle) makes awesome pies and is a huge troll, like HUGE.

He comes over with a pumpkin, apple, cherry, and blueberry pie for the next family gathering:

Uncle: “These are all for [Dad]!”

Dad: “Oh f*** off!”

Uncle: “Try one! They’re extra good this year!”

My uncle just keeps teasing him all day. When we’re seated for the meal:

Dad: “Can you pass me the potato?”

My uncle, of course, passes him pie.

My dad gets up, walks over to my uncle, and punches him right in the face, breaking his nose. He’s on the floor, bleeding, shouting for help. My mom, sitting near him, leans over and offers him pie.

That was the last time I saw him for a whole decade.

I’m the author of this story. My grandmother is afflicted with the hoarding curse but has been slowly decluttering with help from my aunts and uncles.

My mother’s side of the family has gotten together for Christmas. Usually, each grandparent sets aside a certain amount of money for each parent to use to purchase gifts for their children on the grandparents’ behalf, but my grandmother has broken the mold a bit this year by personally getting two gifts for my cousin’s toddler daughters. No one knows what they are, but her kids figure that if the gifts are a flop, they’ll just dispose of them quietly.

When the other presents have been opened, my grandmother gives the two toddlers their final gifts. They gleefully rip off the paper to find two matching pink Care Bear dolls that they promptly squeal over. My grandmother looks very pleased with herself, but every adult in the room is looking at either the dolls or my grandmother, slack-jawed.

Aunt: *Quietly* “Didn’t you have a doll that looked like that as a kid?”

Mom: “Yeah, forty years ago! But I only ever had one, and it definitely wasn’t either of those!”

My grandmother had managed to pull two identical, forty-year-old Care Bears in perfect condition out of her basement hoard to give to her great-granddaughters. If not for the dated design, you wouldn’t be able to tell that they were older than half the party’s attendees.

The hoarding curse is set to skip those girls’ generation, but if either of them has kids, maybe the dolls will get another forty years in THEIR toy chests!

Related:
Great-Great-Grandpa’s Grand Gathering Of Garbage And Goodies