When I was a young teenager, my family and I went on a trip to Martha’s Vineyard along with a bunch of other relatives — and when I say a bunch, I mean all our aunts and uncles along with their thirty-plus kids. On the first day, I got a terrible case of sun poisoning, which kept me inside for most of the vacation. But I could wander about with family once the sun went down.

During one of these nights, I was feeling a bit tired from my extreme sunburn, so we started to walk to the hotel from dinner earlier than everyone else. On our way, we stopped at a street vendor to look at the souvenirs and other knickknacks. My eye caught on a set of Baoding balls, also known as Chinese meditation balls. They have a set of chimes in them, and as you roll them around in your hand, they softly chime in two different notes. These had beautiful enamel inlays. I couldn’t resist using the money I had saved up all year long for this trip on a pair in an azure blue with black and white yin-yang symbols.

The seller was very charming. He talked to my mother and me about our trip and other things as he bagged up a pair from behind the cart in a nice padded box and exchanged it for my cash. He reminded me to be careful as they are rather delicate and to not play with them as we walked home in case I dropped one or both.

Of course, I couldn’t resist taking a look at them as we walked home. About a block away, I opened the box as my mother watched to make sure I was careful. My heart dropped. The enamel decorations on the balls were chipped and falling off in places. This was impossible. I was absolutely careful, and I hadn’t dropped them, swung them around in the bag, or jostled them in the least. My mother, on the other hand, got a dark look on her face, closed the box, put it back in the bag, and turned us around to go back to the vendor.

Mom: “Excuse me, but you gave my daughter a broken set.”

Vendor: “Let me take a look.”

The vendor took the box, opened them, and spoke without hesitation.

Vendor: “These look like they were dropped. I cannot give you a refund. I did warn you that they are very delicate.”

Mom: “She hasn’t dropped them. I was with her the entire time between you selling her these and our return.”

Vendor: “Lots of parents say that after their kid has dropped these. You understand, I’m running a small business all by myself and can’t afford to pay for your kid’s clumsiness.”

Mom: “Either give my daughter’s money back or give her a new set.”

At this point, my extended family had begun to catch up with us, and all thirty or so of my cousins were starting to crowd around the street vendor’s cart. Most were oblivious to our conversation, but my aunts and uncles definitely recognized the look on their elder sister’s face as she faced down the vendor.

Vendor: “I’m sorry, but I cannot be responsible for broken items, especially if your daughter took them out of the box and dropped them on the cement.”

I was getting fed up with the guy implying I was a complete blundering klutz.

Me: “If I had dropped them, there would be missing pieces of enamel. It’s all there. You just gave me broken balls.”

Due to my forcefulness and unfortunate choice of words, a fair number of my cousins started laughing at what they had just overheard. Some of my aunts and uncles, now aware that this vendor was trying to cheat a young girl out of her money, started to usher their kids away from the stand. 

The vendor started to realize that this entire group of potential sales knew each other.

Vendor: “Fine. Let me look for another set in the same colors.”

After checking in front of him that the new set he gave me was intact, we continued on home. I did have to sit through numerous jokes from my cousins about my “broken blue balls” for the rest of the trip.

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.