(My fiancée has just finished making dinner and enters the bedroom to get me.)

Fiancée: “Dinner’s ready! But it turned out spicier than I thought it would. I didn’t put that much pepper in it.”

Me: “Well, what else did you put in it?”

Fiancée: “Um… I put in some chili powder.”

Me: “Well, that might have something to do with it.”

Fiancée: “But I didn’t use that much! And chili powder’s not hot!”

Me: “Um… it comes from the chili pepper.”

Fiancée: “But not all chilis are hot! I use chili powder all the time in my… um… turkey… stew… thing…”

Me: “Do you mean your chili?”

Fiancée: “Yes!”

Me: “Did you seriously forget that the dish you use chili powder in is called chili?”

Fiancée: “Yes!”

(My two older sisters and I are setting up to play a board game where you can get married, get a job, and have kids. There are little plastic people representing yourself and your family that sit in little plastic cars. Sometimes we like to play as fictional characters. Sister #1 happens to really like Legolas and Tauriel from ‘The Hobbit.’)

Me: “[Sister #1], are you gonna play as yourself or as Legolas?”

Sister #1: “I’ll play as myself.” *pause* “Am I allowed to have two spouses?”

Me: “I guess. Why?”

Sister #1: “I want to marry both Legolas and Tauriel.”

Sister #2: “I’m marrying a centaur.”

Me: “Fine. I’m gonna marry Esmeralda from The Hunchback of Notre Dame.”

(My mom, who has been sitting nearby, speaks up.)

Mom: “I never thought I would hear my children say that.”

(My partner and I are lying in bed.)

Me: “Hello, pretty face.”

Partner: “Hello, sexy mind.”

Me: “You have sexy mind, too. Let’s have mind sex!”

(We begin banging our heads against each other.)

Partner: “Ow!”

Me: “WHY DID WE DO THAT?!”

(We have a lot of loud, obnoxious off-roaders behind our house. My three-year-old daughter is asking me a lot of questions.)

Daughter: “Why they were making so much noise?”

Me: *in a moment of frustration* “Because they are idiots.”

(Now, whenever she hears them riding back there, she comes running in saying:)

Daughter: “Mommy, the idiots are back! The idiots are back!”

(She had never actually seen them due to the privacy slats in our fence, until one day when she came running into the house.)

Daughter: “Mommy! Guess what? Those aren’t idiots! They’re people!”

(My three-year-old daughter comes running up to me.)

Daughter: “Mommy, I want something to drink.”

(I grab her and hug her.)

Me: “Do you love me?”

Daughter: “Yes.”

Me: “Really?”

Daughter: “Yes!”

Me: “You really love me?”

Daughter: “No. I want something to drink.”