Manipulation For Breakfast

, , , , , , | Related | February 1, 2019

(My mom watches my kids while I work. They eat breakfast at home, lunch at grandma’s, and dinner at home. I come to pick them up one afternoon and my mom is upset.)

Mom: “As soon as you left this morning, they both asked for food. They said they were hungry. I asked them if you fed them breakfast and they said no!

(She then launches into a lengthy diatribe about how I need to be better organized, get up earlier, allow time to feed them, etc. She finally stops long enough for me to get a word in.)

Me: “[Son]? Come here a second.”

(My oldest comes over.)

Me: “Did Dad feed you breakfast this morning?”

Son: “YES! We had oatmeal and he put raisins in it and gave us juice and milk. It was really good.”

(I look at my mom and wait for her to respond. She hesitates for a bit and finally responds.)

Mom: “Well, I didn’t think to ask that.” *addressing my son* “So, why did you tell me you were hungry?”

Son: “Because you have [Sugar-Coated Cereal] and we don’t.”

(She has now learned to ask different questions.)

Bang Bang, They Shot That Down

, , , , , | Related | January 18, 2019

As my grandfather, Bill, had just passed three days earlier, my sister, her husband and I pack in a car for a six-hour drive.

I’m listening to my music and my sister waves to get my attention. She and her husband were talking and her husband had said that my grandmother and all of us should watch Kill Bill.

Took him a second before he realized what he said.

There’s Going To Be A Heated Discussion In The Morning

, , , , | Related | January 8, 2019

(It is winter, so it gets cold one night. The heater has broken, so the only source of heat is the oven. I know it’s dangerous, but it’s that or freeze. I walk into the living room to get milk, thinking that someone has turned off the oven. The oven is still on, and a sweep of the house confirms that my grandfather and I are the only ones awake, so I walk into his room.)

Me: “Hey, the oven is still on. I’m going to turn it off; it’s warm enough and everyone has like, two blankets a piece.”

Grandfather: “No, no! Your mother said to keep it on; it’s cold.”

Me: “But we’re the only ones awake, and we can’t fall asleep with it on.”

Grandfather: “I’ll get it! I’ll get it!”

Me: “Okay, don’t fall asleep.”

(I drank my milk in the living room, and then headed back to my room, turning off the oven as I went. A check back in my grandfather’s room confirmed that he was asleep. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes.)

When Fake News Forms Real Opinions

, , , | Related | January 1, 2019

(My grandma was a very liberal person back when I was a kid, but with age has become more than a little conservative.)

Grandma: “When I was young I applied for many jobs and didn’t get one single call, because back then you had to state your religion, and since I was a non-practicing Catholic I was shunned.”

Cousin: “You can’t do that now; they can’t even ask. That’s discrimination.”

Grandma: “Yes! That is a good change. Well… they should start asking again. If it was me, I wouldn’t be hiring any of those… Muslims.”

Me: “Grandma, I love you but… that’s terrible. Why would you say that?”

Grandma: “Look at all the shootings they are responsible for.”

Me: “Like which one?”

Grandma: “That one in [Place], and the one in [Place].”

Me: “One sec.” *checks online* “Grandma, none of those people were Muslims. This guy was a US Marine, born in the USA.”

Grandma: “They were not, but their parents were.”

Me: *checks* “No, Grandma, this guy’s parents were from [State].”

Grandma: “Well, other Muslims kill US citizens, so I wouldn’t hire Muslims!”

Me: “Hmm, well, in that case, I wouldn’t hire men, since most if not all assailants so far have been male. That is your logic.”

Grandma: “THAT IS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT! I HOPE THE MUSLIMS KILL EVERYONE SO YOU CAN SEE THE TRUTH!” *storms off*

(After this and many episodes like this with my family, I am far more scared of them.)

What The Fudge?

, , , , , , | Related | December 26, 2018

(Every Christmas, my grandmother spends all of December baking cookies. I’ve gone up to help her out, so I’m icing some mint cookies while she’s dipping her batch in chocolate. While she’s not usually one for swearing, I’ve picked up quite a vocabulary from friends so I try and watch my language around my family.)

Grandma: *drops a cookie into the chocolate* “Oh, s***! Sorry!”

Grandma: *stuck-together cookies break* “Well, s***! Sorry!”

(I’ve run out of room for more cookies, so I use a spatula to lift the iced ones onto spare cookie sheets to dry. It’s going well until one leaps off my spatula and lands icing-side down. We both stare at it.)

Me: “Ffffffffffffffffffffffffffudge muffins!”

Grandma: *bursts out laughing*

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