(I am sitting on the couch watching TV, cuddled up in a blanket. I mention to my twelve-year-old son:)

Me: “I’m feeling cold.”

Son: “Mom, are you cold because you’re bleeding internally?”

Me: “We’re watching way too much CSI, aren’t we?”

(We’ve told our kids that we email the Tooth Fairy regularly whenever they lose a tooth, to schedule a payment. My son has just lost his second tooth, and I pretend to email the Tooth Fairy about it. He tells me about the tooth, and, as we have run out of money due to unexpected expenses, I tell him that I’ll email the Tooth Fairy, but that the weeks before school are especially busy. Right after a pay day, when our budget has been stabilized, this happens:)

Kiddo: “Hey, Mom, when is the Tooth Fairy going to come?”

Me: “Oh! I think she’s got you down for tonight, if you’re sleeping on schedule. So, go to bed, okay?”

Kiddo: “Okay! Goodnight!” *runs to bed*

(About a minute later:)

Me: “Oh! She emailed me!”

Kiddo: *looks out from doorway*

Me: *holds hand over monitor as I minimize the email window*

Kiddo: “What? What’d she say?”

Me: “Confirming details, like pillow shape, sleep time, and such.”

Kiddo: “Oh. Well, hopefully she can come tonight!” *goes back to bed*

(I’ve got to remember to stop spending my cash, so the Tooth Fairy can come on time more often.)

(My grandfather has relayed this story a few times from when he was a kid in the early 1950’s, and says it has always bothered him. In the story, my great uncle walks into the room first. He is a large and stocky person.)

Neighbor: “Looks like you’ve been eating your potatoes.”

(My grandpa walks in. He is very skinny and lanky.)

Neighbor: *looking back at great uncle* “Looks like you’ve been eating his potatoes, too!”

(My family is putting together a grocery list while we finish eating dinner. I’m sitting with three of my siblings, the youngest of whom is ten.)

Me: “Oh, add [food] if they have any. Get a good flavor, like [flavor] or something. The ones we have are too spicy.”

Brother: “Spicy? Really? They’re not spicy!”

(We go back and forth about this for a minute before…)

Me: “—peppers in the cheese and—”

Mom: “All right, all right. Everyone tastes differently.”

Dad: *in a deep voice* “You know how I taste.”

(My mom’s face went red, and I gave my dad the most horrified look while my younger siblings stared on obliviously.)

(I am walking home with my sister and one of our cousins. It’s just beginning to get dark and we are a bit wary as we pass by a rough looking guy.)

Cousin: *whispering* “Oh s***, that guy just showed me a knife and grinned at me!”

(We all start walking faster, and we notice that he’s crossed the street but is keeping pace just a short distance from us. The corner of our street has a high fence that would block us from his view.)

Sister: “As soon as we turn into our street, we are all going to run for it, okay? Don’t look back; just run.”

(I have always been known for not being a very fast runner. People use the expression, “She couldn’t run if her life depended on it,” about me. My sister and cousin have both won running races at school; I always come in last. We get to our street and we all take off running. I get to the front door, unlock it, and we all end up piling into the house.)

Cousin: “What the h*** was that, [My Name]?”

Me: “What the h*** was what?”

Cousin: “[Sister] told me you couldn’t run!”

Me: “I can’t!”

Cousin: “[Sister] and I couldn’t catch you; I’ve never seen someone run so fast in my life!”

Sister: “Yeah, why don’t you ever run that fast at school?”

Me: “They don’t usually chase me down the track at school with a knife.”