(Note: this happened when I was about 4 years old. I was doing something I shouldn’t.)

Mom: “Young man, you stop that right now or you’re going to have to take the consequences.”

Me: *thinks for a bit* “Okay. I’ll take them. But I’m not giving them back!”

(I have just finished a 13 hour shift in hospital, and my boyfriend is over from Canada. We are pretty hungry, and he is feeling all romantic.)

Me: “What do you fancy to eat, love?”

Boyfriend: “Anything you want, baby.”

Me: “I know this great vegetarian restau—”

Boyfriend: “F*** you.”

Husband: “I like it when you smile.”

Me: *expecting something romantic* “And why’s that?”

Husband: “It makes your cheeks look really fat.”

Me: “Wait, it makes me look fat?”

Husband: “Not you, just your cheeks.”

(I’m talking to my mom about the book ‘The Phantom of the Opera’, which I have just read. My mom has seen the musical and watched the movie.)

Me: “…and then after that, Erik went and—”

Mom: “Who’s Erik?”

Me: “—then he… wait, what?”

Mom: “Who’s Erik?”

Me: “The Phantom.”

Mom: “Seriously?”

Me: “Yeah, you didn’t know?”

Mom: “Well, it doesn’t sound like a very Phantom-like name.”

Me: “I…uh…okay?”

Mom: “Anyways, what were you saying?”

Me: “Well, then he heard a noise coming from the torture chamber, but Christine kept saying that there is no one there, so Erik—”

Mom: *completely serious* “Who’s Erik?”

(I am four years old. My mother (with me along) has bought some fancy cigars as a surprise for my dad. When we get home with them, she hides them in the butter compartment of the fridge, in the garage, and carefully coaches me not to tell him and ruin the surprise. As soon as my dad comes home, I run up to him.)

Me: “Daddy! Daddy! We didn’t get you a surprise, so whatever you do, don’t look in the butter holder in the outside fridge!”