When I was in the first grade, my dad showed me how magical he was; he could make a red light turn green simply by opening and closing his car door!

He had the opportunity to do that a few more times before he and Mom divorced when I was about ten. I hadn’t figured it out by the time he pretty much disappeared for the next fifteen years.

I started doing that trick with my own kids when they were about five and seven. I didn’t overdo it — only once or twice a year and then only “when absolutely necessary.”

One morning, I got off work early and I was taking them to school. We got stopped at a large intersection heavy with traffic. I mentioned that we might not get to school right on time.

My son (nine then) suggested:

Son: “Hey, Dad, why don’t you make the light change so we won’t be late?”

Wow, I hadn’t thought of that.

Me: “Uh… well… See, all these other people are in a hurry, too, and I don’t wanna interrupt the flow of traffic until some of it clears out. I’ll change it in a minute.”

They were satisfied.

My own son now has two boys, in first and second grade. They came over the other day and one said:

Grandson: “Hey, Grandpa, my dad can make a red light turn green!”

Me: “Really! How does he do that?”

Grandson: “He turns on the windshield wiper two times, and it changes!”

I glanced at my son and we shared a small, silent smile.

Me: “Well, that’s good, but it sounds like he’d have a little trouble with that when it’s raining!”

At least he came up with his own magic.

When I was twelve, my parents and I flew from Canada to London, England to visit my paternal grandparents. My grandmother, “Nana”, wasn’t an easy person to get along with. For one thing, even though I barely knew her due to living in a different country, she seemed offended that I wasn’t chattering with her all day long. (The fact that I was shy didn’t help.)

One morning, I was sitting in my grandparents’ living room, reading a book. I was completely engrossed in it and didn’t realize that Nana had entered the room until I heard a very cold voice.

Nana: “Good morning, [My Name].”

Me: *Startled* “Oh! Good morning, Nana.”

She stalked out of the room with her nose in the air, and I thought, “This isn’t good.”

Sure enough, Dad came up to me a few minutes later.

Dad: “Nana is really hurt and upset that you didn’t say, ‘Good morning,’ to her.”

Me: “I didn’t even know she was there, Dad. I didn’t mean to upset her.”

Dad: “Still, I think you should apologize.”

Me: “Apologize? For what?”

Dad: *Looking harassed* “Look. Just say you’re sorry, okay? Otherwise, she’ll make the entire household miserable.”

So, I did. To this day, I’m still angry about it, and it’s been over forty-five years.

At the end of my first year of college, my mother and grandfather pitch in to help me move home. When my grandfather asks if he needs to bring anything, like boxes, I request that he bring a small cooler.

However, when he gets there on move-out day, he finds that my minifridge is completely empty and has been propped open to defrost since the previous evening in preparation for moving.

Grandpa: “I’m sorry, I’m confused. Do you still need the cooler?”

Me: “Yeah, just not for the fridge stuff. I’ll fill up the cooler just before we leave.”

Grandpa: *Pauses* “All right, then.”

After we’d loaded most of my stuff, I grabbed the cooler and headed to the little campus food store across the way. A few minutes later, I emerged with the cooler, which was now filled with… eleven pints of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream.

My university has a sort of debit card system for food items, and I hadn’t spent too much over the course of the year, so I had about $76 of nonrefundable money that was about to expire. The ice cream pints were one of the most expensive things in the store, so it was a great way to get rid of that extra money.

My family was very happy to have a freezer drawer full of high-quality ice cream, and my grandfather still talks about the cooler with eleven pints of ice cream.

My husband and I are teaching our three-year-old about consent and not having to express affection with others if she doesn’t want to. We are visiting my in-laws and my daughter is busy playing. 

Mother-In-Law: “[Daughter], come give me a hug.”

Daughter: “Not right now.”

Mother-In-Law: “Awww, please?”

Daughter: “No, but we can do a high-five!”

Mother-In-Law: *Pouting* “I’ll cry if you don’t give me a hug. You don’t want Grandma to be sad, do you?”

Before my husband or I can say anything: 

Daughter: “That’s okay. You can be sad.”

[Mother-In-Law]’s face was priceless. I had to resist cackling but was pretty proud of our kiddo.

Afterward, we did have a conversation with [Mother-In-Law] about respecting boundaries and not trying to guilt our daughter. She did get on board quickly when we suggested that if she couldn’t agree, visits would stop.

In my childhood, my family would visit my grandparents to celebrate Christmas each year. One Christmas, when my sister and I were somewhere around the ages of seven and five, my parents discovered late on Christmas Eve that they had forgotten everything they had meant to put in our stockings at home, which was hours away. 

As all the shops were closed for Christmas, my parents and grandparents had no choice but to scour my grandparents’ house for anything that they could possibly put in a Christmas stocking. The results of this foraging mainly turned up nothing but several pens and legal pads, along with other odds and ends I can’t remember. My parents went to bed feeling awful, certain they had forever ruined Santa and the magic of Christmas for their children.

On Christmas morning, my sister and I eagerly peeked into our stockings, and our eyes grew wide. We ran back to our parents, squealing.

Us: “Did you see what Santa brought us? He gave us real grown-up pens and pads! Mommy, Daddy, look at the notepad! This is the best. Christmas. Ever!“

We cherished those legal pads for the rest of the day, and for months afterward until the paper ran out.

Years later, I finally learned the truth of the story and how bewildered my parents were that no toy had ever enchanted their children like a couple of old legal pads. My mom was certain we were overcompensating for disappointment, but I still remembered that day as the best Christmas ever!