(My husband grabs my chest as we’re laying there after getting frisky.)

Husband: “I think your boobs are getting bigger.”

(He then reaches and grabs his own chest.)

Me: “Did you just compare them to your own?”

Husband: “Oh, no honey. I don’t have boobs. If I did, nothing would ever get done.”

(My sister and I are total Harry Potter nerds, and there’s a Harry Potter marathon going on. We both love the end of Chamber of Secrets. Unfortunately, the day before we had missed it, but we come back home after shopping and I turn it on.)

Me: “Hey, sis! The end of Chamber of Secrets is on!”

(I turn the TV to that channel only to see it is just past the part we love.)

Me: “Scratch that! It’s the end, but not the end, end, it’s the end end.”

Sister: “So close!”

Me: “But, we still get to see Dobby get released from the Malloy’s treachery!”

Sister: “Yay!”

(My older sister and I are both very OCD about English, and constantly correct grammar if we hear something incorrectly stated. My older sister is helping my younger sister out with an essay for English.)

Older sister: “How about I just sit down and proofread the essay? That way, I can fix any grammar problems as well.”

Younger sister: “Okay, that’s fine.”

(A couple minutes later, my older sister starts exclaiming about how horrible the grammar in the essay is.)

Older sister: “Wow, this grammar seriously sucks.”

Younger sister: “Whatever, it’s not like I’m good at English. I’m more better at Math.”

Me: *convulsing on the ground from lack of correct grammar* “So… many… things… wrong with that sentence!”

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(I have been out of state in college for most of the year. I am trying to spend more time with my parents during the summer by watching TV with them in the evening, including the 2012 Olympic coverage. My father is a rather large middle-aged man. He has been watching as my mother and I ogle the male divers in their little Speedos.)

Dad: “Oh, c’mon. What have they got that I don’t have?”

Me: “An Olympic medal. Negative thirty years. A Speedo.”

Mom: “Actually, your father used to have a Speedo.”

Me: “And we don’t talk about those days.”

Mom: “Yeah, it wasn’t pretty.”

Dad: *musing aloud* “Hmm… do I still have that Speedo?”

Me and mom: *at the exact same time* “No!”

(I am five years old, and am getting a bath.)

Me: “Mom, what does ‘tear-free’ mean?”

Mom: “Well, it means that if it gets into your eyes, it will be gentle.”

Me: “Well, it ain’t so gentle when you got your hands on my head!”