(My sister is trying to help my six-year-old nephew write a Christmas list.)

Sister: “Okay, [Nephew], what’s something that you need?”

Nephew: “A toothbrush and toothpaste?”

Sister: “I meant, what do you want for Christmas?”

Nephew: “Oh, presents.”

Sister: *laughing to herself a little* “Yes, but what presents?”

Nephew: “I don’t know. A square one, maybe?”

(It’s Christmas time. My extended family is holding a get-together, and my sister and I are carpooling there. I end up in the backseat with my nieces, who are four and two. This year, my older niece is old enough to “get” the idea of Santa Claus, and she is excited to tell me what she hopes Santa will bring her. She alternates gift ideas with bits of Christmas songs, sung off-key and missing words. It’s when she switches to singing “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” that I realize that maybe she doesn’t “get” Santa like we thought she did.)

Niece: *singing* “You better not run, you better not cry. Santa Claus is coming… for you.”

(Clearly, further discussion is needed.)

I went to visit my dying aunt. We talked for a long time, and I mentioned that I still had the embroidered plaque she’d made for my birth. I was ashamed; I hadn’t taken the best care of it and it was quite dirty. I thought she might be able to tell me how to clean it.

My aunt started crying, and I apologized for my actions.

“It’s not that,” she sobbed. “My children threw theirs away. You’re the only one who kept it.”

I honestly didn’t know what to say to that, but I made sure I visited her as much as possible before she passed. I have an entire drawer dedicated to her letters, and a wall dedicated to her embroidery. It’s not going in a box or in the trash.

(At a holiday get-together, my family and I are taking a “Harry Potter” house sorting quiz.)

Me: “I got Hufflepuff!”

Niece: “I got Hufflepuff, too!”

Other Family Members: “We’re all Hufflepuffs.”

(Everyone except my mother is a Hufflepuff. My mother gets assigned to Slytherin.) 

Mom: “I need to retake the quiz and change my answers, so I get to be a Hufflepuff.”

Niece: “That’s a Slytherin move right there, Grandma.”

This story is part of our Gorgeous Grandmas roundup!

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(I am filing a warranty claim for my Xbox controller. I am filling out the online form and everything goes normally until I get to the part that asks how it was damaged. I hesitate a moment, considering how to explain the problem since I don’t actually know WHAT happened; it worked the day before, and then when I went to use it today it didn’t. This is what I put in:)

Form: “Eight-year-old niece. She probably dropped it, or pressed the button too hard repeatedly. Perhaps both, knowing her.”