(Even though I’m divorced and my ex-husband and his parents live in another country, I still have a great relationship with my former in-laws. My six-year-old daughter — their only grandchild — and I FaceTime them one morning. It should be noted that [Grandma-In-Law]’s English is horrible, but she always understands what I’m saying and what’s going on. [Grandpa-in-Law]’s English is okay, but he doesn’t ever understand what’s going on.)

Me: *to my daughter* “Tell them where you’re going next week with Grandma!” *my mom*

Daughter: “I’m going to Disney World with Grandma!”

Grandma-In-Law: *starts excitedly yelling in Hebrew* “So fun! Mickey Mouse! You’ll see the princess and the castle!”

(She then tells Grandpa — also in Hebrew — who wasn’t paying attention.)

Grandpa-In-Law: *in English* “Oh, so fun! If you see Harry Potter, you tell him, ‘Hi,’ from me!”

(My daughter looks at me, confused, and I see my mother-in-law rolling her eyes in the background.)

Me: *whispering to my daughter* “Smile and say yes.”

Daughter: “Yyyeaah?!”

Grandpa-In-Law: “So much fun! Harry Potter!”

(My grandfather was in the merchant marines during the Second World War. Occasionally, we’re reminded of how interesting his life has been.)

Grandpa: “There was this one time we were in Curacao and this Nazi U-boat fired a torpedo at us.”

Me: “That’s amazing. You never told me that.”

Grandpa: “It’s not that exciting. I mean, they missed.”

(My grandparents live about three-quarters of a mile out of town on a county highway with a speed limit of 55 mph. I’ve been studying my drivers’ manual and getting ready to take my road test to get my license in a few weeks. I am riding with them on the way to their farm.)

Grandpa: “You don’t need to drive that fast, especially when you’re first starting out with your license. Take our road, for example. There is no reason you should even get to 55 miles an hour if you’re coming to our house from town.”

Grandma: *under her breath* “Wanna bet?”

(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.)

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.