(It’s Christmas Day and we are at the in-laws’ house. My brother- and sister-in-law turn up with just the younger of their two sons.)

Mother-In-Law: “Where’s [Older Son]? Is he sick?”

Brother-In-Law: “No, it’s worse than being sick; he’s on call and was called in for an emergency.”

Mother-In-Law: “What sort of emergency?”

Brother-In-Law: “The plumbing kind.”

(Later, [Nephew] stops in to say hello on his way between jobs. I go in for a hug but he backs off.)

Nephew: “Don’t touch me! Um… Sorry, that came out wrong. Please don’t touch me; I’m covered in s***.”

(I have two nieces: Eve, aged two, and Alice, aged six months. It’s just before Christmas.)

Niece’s Mum: “So, tomorrow is Christmas Eve…”

Eve: “And Christmas Alice!”

(My cousin and her family, including her two-year-old son, have come to visit us. The clouds cover the sun.)

Nephew: “Who turned off the lights?”

(Silence as we’re all trying not to laugh. He doesn’t understand when we try to explain about the clouds covering up the sun.)

Me: “The sun is playing peek-a-boo.”

(He was happy with that explanation.)

(One Christmas, I visit my brother and his family. They live in the “sticks” in Yorkshire. My niece and her husband have recently moved into a house they bought a couple of miles from my brother. They are away, visiting her in-laws, but on Boxing Day my brother suggests we walk off the turkey and trimming by going to have a look at the house. My brother and I walk with the dog along a muddy footpath, peer through the downstairs windows of the house to see how the redecorating is going, go round the back to admire the view from the garden, and generally have a good look around. As we are walking back, my brother receives an agitated text from my niece:)

Niece: “Dad! Can you check on the property, urgently? The security cameras have just picked up two tramps trying to break in! I’ve called the police, but they say they will take hours to get there.”

(To be fair, neither my brother nor I were dressed out of a Barbour catalogue, and the dog was a nondescript “Heinz Varieties” mongrel. But how good were those security cameras, that my niece didn’t recognise her own dad?)

(My dad is in hospital, so, whilst looking after my nieces, I have them make get-well cards for him. The following exchange takes place between the two youngest girls, aged seven and five.)

Seven-Year-Old: *pointing to the drawing in her sister’s card* “What’s that?”

Five-Year-Old: “It’s a monster greeting a spider.”

Seven-Year-Old: “Why did you put a monster on granddad’s card?”

Five-Year-Old: “Well, I don’t know! It’s wearing a party hat!”

(The five-year-old also covered her card with blue hearts, which she told me were for all the family members who have died; just the thing for a get-well card.)