(My daughter has just recently turned two.)

Me: “How old are you sweetie?”

Daughter: “Two old!”

(My staunchly conservative uncle is visiting, and he does not like me at all. I’m still required to join the family for brunch. It doesn’t take him long to start on me, and this time I really am not willing to put up with it.)

Uncle: *to my father, as if I’m not there* “I just can’t believe you let her cut her hair so short. Girls should have long hair.”

Me: *to my uncle* “Oh, yes. Well, we voiced our opinion on that and she did it anyway, because we recognize that as it’s her hair, it was her decision to make.”

Uncle: *ignoring me* “And those tattoos. I know my daughter has some, but hers are so… well, most of them are just not very feminine.”

Me: *to my uncle, and very annoyed by now* “Actually, Uncle, I designed most of these myself. I didn’t make them overly feminine because that isn’t who I am as a person. They represent me, and things that I’ve been through so far and the experiences I’ve had that were either traumatic or memorable. The way I look is entirely up to me. Who cares what other people think I should look like, just because I’m female?”

Uncle: *still ignoring me* “It’ll be awfully hard for her to find someone to marry her now. At least my daughters are good girls.”

Dad: “Didn’t your daughter just get married because she was pregnant?”

Uncle: “But she married the father!”

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(My boyfriend is two weeks from leaving to go to school at a military service academy.)

Boyfriend: “I love you to West Point and back.”

Me: “Mmm. Well, I love you to a galaxy far, far away and back.”

Boyfriend: “I love you where no man has ever gone before! Boldly…and back. Yeah.”

(My husband and I are ‘Game of Thrones’ fans. I’m about to head to bed after watching the finale. In the show, there is a tribe where the leader/king is called a ‘Khal’ [pronounced kind of like “call”] and his wife/queen is called a ‘Khaleesi’ [pronounced “call-EE-see”]. My husband is a bit on the large side.)

Husband: “Good night, my moon and stars.”

Me: “Aw, I love you.”

Husband: “I love you too, Khaleesi.”

Me: “That would make you Khal, then.”

Husband: “Yeah, Khal-esterol, maybe.”

(My boyfriend and I both have computers, but I have a laptop in the living room and he has a desktop in the office, right next to the living room. He goes to the office to play his games frequently. We yell back and forth a lot.)

Me: “Looooove! Remember how you promised to get me some ice cream earlier?”

Boyfriend: “No.”

Me: “You did. Will you get me some ice cream?”

Boyfriend: *in his whiny tone* “But, loooove, I just got into a game with [friend]!”

Me: “But you said you’d get me some ice cream.”

Boyfriend: “No! That was before I got into a game!”

Me: “You never set any kind of parameters for getting me ice cream involving this particular situation.”

*silence*

Me: “Please?”

*silence*

Boyfriend: *opens office door, sighs* “I told [friend] I died because I was arguing about ice cream. He said ‘it happens’.”

(He proceeds to get me ice cream.)