(My boyfriend and I are laying on the floor of my apartment. I am thinking; he is playing with one of my bobby pins. All of a sudden, he starts using it to trace on my forehead.)
Me: “Did you seriously just draw the Deathly Hallows on my forehead?”
Boyfriend: “Yes! And that is exactly why we are together, because you knew what I was drawing.”
(My sister suffers from exercise-induced anaphylaxis. It is a relatively rare condition that can cause her to break out in massive, full-body rashes if she physically exerts herself too much. A number of distant relatives have come to visit for Easter. Many of them don’t really know us ‘kids’ very well, and thus don’t know all of our peculiarities. This includes my sister’s condition. I’m washing the dishes we used during dinner, and my sister is keeping me company when our aunt comes in.)
Aunt: “[Sister], help your sister with the dishes.”
Me: “Oh, it’s no problem; I’ve got them.”
Aunt: “No! [Sister] has to do something as well.”
Me: “Auntie, no offense to you or [Sister], but I’d really rather she doesn’t. I’m a professional chef, and I can get kitchen work done quicker and easier without anyone else crowding me at the counter.”
Aunt: “Then one of you wash, and one of you dry.”
Me: “There’s a lot of dishes. The workload from a party this size could cause problems with her anaphylaxis.”
Aunt: “Pfft, she’s just lazy. That’s why she’s getting fat while you’re in such good shape. You girls used to both be so pretty.”
(My sister is sensitive about her weight, and runs from the kitchen holding back tears.)
Me: “God-d*** it Auntie! She’s not lazy; she has a rare condition which among other symptoms, could prove lethal if she exerts herself too much. [Sister] exercises regularly, and it’s a struggle, but she and I do our best to work out as much as possible without pushing her too far.”
Aunt: “But—”
Me: “No, no buts! She’s my sister, and I’m not going to put up with anyone insulting her, even family! I am not going to force her to do work that could cause her to break out in rashes, or worse, die. Now get out of my kitchen!”
(My aunt flees faster than I’ve ever seen her move. I’m able to quickly finish my work, and then go find my sister to soothe her emotions.)
This story is part of our Sisters’ Day roundup!
Read the next Sisters’ Day story here!
Read the Sisters’ Day roundup!
(A chain ice-cream restaurant has recently opened up close to home. My five-year-old brother and I have always wanted to eat there because of the ice cream. Our parents don’t want to because the hot food they serve is frankly terrible. I am eight years old.)
Dad: “You don’t want to eat at [ice-cream restaurant].”
Brother: “Yes, we do!”
Dad: “Well, you know what they make the burgers out of, right?”
Me: “No…”
Dad: “What’s ice cream made of?”
Brother: “Milk?”
Dad: “That’s right! And cats really like milk, so they must really like ice cream.”
Me: “Yeah…”
Dad: “So, there should be a lot of cats hanging out in the parking lot, right?”
Brother: “Yeah…”
Dad: “Have you ever seen a cat in the parking lot [ice cream restaurant]?”
(My brother and I shake our heads in growing horror.)
Dad: “Why do you think that is? Well, let’s go out to dinner!”
Brother: “No! We don’t want to eat there anymore!”
(My family and I are sitting down for dinner and my dad hands out forks and spoons to everyone. Admittedly, the spoons he gives us are relatively large.)
Mom: “Honey, this spoon is not appropriate for soup!”
Dad: “How so?”
Me: “Yeah, I’m fine with it.”
Mom: “Maybe you are, but I’d like something that’s appropriate for the size of my mouth, thank you.”
Dad: “Fine.”
(My dad takes my mom’s spoon and leaves the dining room.)
Mom: “Honestly, your father sometimes!”
Me: “It’s just a spoon.”
Mom: “I know, but—”
(Dad comes back and hands Mom a shovel.)
Dad: “Here you go. Is this the right size for your mouth?”
(My husband and I are laying in bed. He is clearly ‘in the mood’ and is grabbing at me.)
Me: “No honey! I had a terrible day. I need to be wooed!”
Husband: “Woooooooo! Woooooooooo! Woooooooo!”
