(I am at my parent’s house, and we are babysitting my two-year-old nephew. We have been reinforcing the idea that time out is the punishment for bad behavior. I have been making jokes at my dad’s expense, and he doesn’t like it. I’m in my 20s.)

Dad: “Time out! Now!”

Me: “Who, me?”

Dad: “Yes.”

Me: “But—”

(My dad gestures towards my nephew so that I know he’s watching us. I have no choice but to go sit in ‘time out’ for the first time in over 10 years.)

Me: “This isn’t over, Old Man.”

(My boyfriend is going to come to dinner to meet my family, and I am very nervous as I talk to my parents.)

Me: “Just be nice to him, okay? He’s really nervous about it.”

Mom: “Hon, don’t worry about it.”

Dad: “Yeah, if I don’t like him, I’ll just tell him, ‘GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY DAUGHTER!'”

(My brother and I have recently watched a certain viral video. We go to visit some of our cousins, including our four-year-old cousin who’s just beginning to read.)

Little Cousin: *walks up to my brother with a book* “Read book! Read book!”

Brother: “Oh, uh, okay.” *opens book and begins reading* “What does the dog say?”

Little Cousin: “Woof!”

Brother: “What does the cat say?”

Little Cousin: “Meow!”

Me: *turns to older cousin* “Wait, is that that book?”

Older Cousin: “Yep. And [Little Cousin] has heard the song too.”

Me: “This will be good.”

Brother: “What does the cow say?”

Little Cousin: “Moo!”

Brother: “…what does the fox say?”

Little Cousin: “Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!”

(We all laugh for a solid minute.)

Brother: “That was so worth it.”

(My girlfriend lives in an apartment with five other girls, and I have to fart. I go outside to be polite, and she comes outside to see what I’m doing.)

Me: “Babe, don’t come over here. I think I just melted a hole in my underwear with a fart.”

Girlfriend: “That’s okay. I think I just sharted.”

(I am the mother of a nine-year-old boy. We have switched to homeschooling and are raising a few tadpoles for a science project. Unfortunately, when changing the water, I spill a tadpole into the sink, directly down the garbage disposal.)

Me: “Oh, no!”

(My son hears, and comes running to the kitchen.)

Son: “What, mommy?! What’s wrong?”

Me: “Uh, I lost one of the tadpoles when I poured out some of the dirty water. But don’t worry; I’ll rinse him down the pipes and he’ll make it to the ocean!”

Son: “No! No! Get him back, Mommy! I miss him, Mommy; I miss him!”

(My son starts crying.)

Me: “I can’t; I don’t have a fishing net. But don’t worry; he’ll follow the pipes to the ocean. It’s not far from here!”

Son: “Mommy, tadpoles live in lakes, not the ocean.”

Me: “Uh, well, there’s Clear Lake! That’s on the way to the ocean; he can live there!”

(This seems to satisfy him for awhile, until the next morning.)

Son: “Mommy, I only have three tadpoles now. I had four, and now I have three.”

(He goes over to the whiteboard in our home-school room and begins to write ‘4 – 1 = 3.’)

Son: “See, Mommy? Four minus one, equals three. I want another tadpole, Mommy!”

(This goes on and off for several days, with him either lamenting his lost tadpole, or demanding a replacement.)

Son: “Mommy, which drain did you lose the tadpole in? The garbage disposal one or the normal one?”

Me: “The normal one, honey, why?”

(I am totally lying, as I can guess what’s coming.)

Son: “Oh! Good, Mommy, good! Then he will make it to the ocean! If he’d been in the garbage disposal, he would have been all chewed up!”

(Why he suddenly became aware of the garbage disposal and agrees that tadpoles can live in the ocean, I don’t know and I don’t care. I have been and will continue to be very careful with the remaining three tadpoles. I just wish they’d hurry up and become frogs!)