(My partner and I have a little routine. I say, “How did you get so cute?” and he says “Radioactive cute-onium!” This time, though, he has a cold.)

Me: “How’d you get so cute?”

Partner: “Um, I think it’s because of all the non-cute substances I’m expelling from my body.”

Me: “Fair. Enough.”

(I have brown hair and brown eyes; my younger sister has red hair and blue eyes. I also, unfortunately, struggle with acne, especially as a teenager. We are about seventeen and nine years old, respectively.)

Me: “You look like a strawberry shortcake.”

Sister: “Well, YOU look like a pimple sandwich.”

(Love you too, sis.)

(I’m thirteen and my sister is nine. Grandma has spent most of the day cooking. I arrive home with my sister, and we finish making meatloaf, scalloped potatoes, mac and cheese, and green beans. Mom arrives at 4:30 and Grandma has to head home.)

Mom: “Kids, put the food in the oven. I need to go change and relax a couple of minutes.”

Me & Sister: “Okay. We’ll watch TV until you come down.”

(At 5:00 pm I go check on mom.)

Mom: “I’ll be down in fifteen. Stop bugging me. Don’t eat before I come down. I want a nice family dinner.”

(I relay this message to my sister, who hasn’t eaten since noon. At 5:30, my sister checks on mom, and gets yelled at for bothering her, plus a repeat of not eating until she comes down. At 7:00 pm, my sister has food: crackers and a sandwich. At 7:00 am the next day, we get told off for not waking mom from her nap to eat dinner, then told off for not eating. For the rest of our lives, until we moved out, we ate dinner with Grandma.)

(My husband has just had some dental work done. He wants to brush his teeth, but we use electric toothbrushes, and he thinks those will be too harsh on his tender gums.)

Husband: “Babe, do we have any non-electric toothbrushes?”

Me: “Yes, I think so, behind the bathroom door in the cubbyholes.”

Husband: “Oh, darn. None there.”

Me: “Well… you could use your electric one and not turn it on?”

Husband: “Oh, jeeze. I should have thought of that! I think the dentist injected Novocain into my brain.”

(My mom is a “city girl,” meaning she grew up without the experiences of a rural lifestyle. She has never been on any type of recreational vehicle whatsoever. This day, my mom and dad are driving past the neighbor’s house when she notices a For Sale sign.)

Mom: “Oh, look, the neighbors are selling their… um… water motorcycle!”

Dad: *pauses while considers what she’s trying to describe* “Water motorcycle? Wait, you mean a jet ski?!”

Mom: “Yeah, a jet ski! I couldn’t think of the word.”

Dad: “Honey, that’s a snowmobile.”