(My dad is colorblind. He asks me to help him make his bed one day, and as we’re making his bed, he starts talking about his sheets, which are a slightly dull green.)

Dad: “This is Egyptian cotton. The same stuff they made the pharaohs’ wrappings out of.”

Me: “Cool. When you’re done with it, I can make a mummy costume.”

Dad: “You’ll be the first gray mummy.”

Me: “Um… These are green.”

Dad: “What? Dang it. I bought them to match the comforter.”

Me: “The comforter is green, too.”

(When I am about five years old, my mother makes Jello for dessert. I think I can get away with sneaking some before dinner. It is rather obvious when it comes time to serve it.)

Dad: “Okay, who got into the Jello?”

(My brothers and I remain silent until the threat of not having any comes up.)

Me: “I did.”

Dad: “You’ve got a choice: you can watch us eat ours and not have any, or you can have some and then get punished.”

Me: *without hesitation* “I’ll have some of the Jello.”

(Thirty years later, Dad still brings it up.)

My mum’s the bad guy in this. For my 18th birthday, my mum and step-dad took me to a restaurant for dinner. They didn’t have table service, so my mum went to the counter to order for everyone while my step-dad and I found a table.

We sat down at a table for four and were soon joined by an elderly lady we didn’t know. She just smiled and said she couldn’t wait for dinner. Instantly, we both realised she likely had Alzheimer’s and so we remained polite and friendly while waiting for someone to find her.

Unfortunately, Mum came back first. With arms crossed and a frown on her face, she started berating this poor lady. Any time step-dad or I tried to interrupt, she’d just get louder. The poor older lady was clearly confused and near tears.

Mum’s yells attracted the lady’s husband, who apologised on her behalf and explained and confirmed that she did, in fact, have Alzheimer’s and had wandered away while he’d been ordering their food. Thankfully, Mum kept quiet after that.

It was a very awkward dinner and not the last time Mum has gone off at someone who was innocent. The worst part about it was that at that time, Mum was working as a carer for the aged.

(I work at a gift shop for a zoo. Today, a young boy, probably around four or five, enters with his parents. The mother tells him he can get one thing, and after a little bit of looking around, the boy reaches for a plush mermaid.)

Boy: “I want this one!”

Mom: “No, you’re a boy. Pick something for boys.”

Boy: “But I want a mermaid!”

Mom: “I said no. You’re a boy. Pick something else!”

(The boy is clearly upset, and his mother is starting to look angry. The boy looks down at the mermaid in his hands again.)

Boy: “But I want this one…”

(The mother takes the mermaid out of his hands, throws it on the shelf, and grabs him by the arm.)

Mom: “Fine. You’re not getting anything, then!”

(She drags the young boy out of the gift shop, and he’s now starting to cry. The father, who was watching all of this in silence with an equally angry look on his face, waits for the mother to get out of view, picks the mermaid up, and comes to my register to pay for it. Before I can say anything, he whispers quietly enough that none of the other children in the shop can hear him.)

Dad: “I’ve had it with that b****. If my son wants a mermaid, my son’s getting a f****** mermaid.”

(He apologized for his wife causing a scene, and I gave him my employee discount for being such an awesome father.)

Once or twice a week, my mom will call her parents to check in on them. One day, she tries to call them but the call doesn’t go through. She tries again and the same thing happens. She waits an hour or two before trying again, and she still can’t get a hold of them. She tries on both the home phone and her cell phone. Nothing. Eventually, she calls her brother and asks him if he’s been able to call their parents. He tries and he can’t get through to them, either.

The next day, Mom tries to call her parents a few more times, but still can’t reach them. She decides that if she can’t reach them by the end of the day, then she will drive over to their house the next morning — her day off. My uncle has the same thought, and since he lives closer to them, he drives over to their house that day after he gets off work.

Turns out, there is a setting on my grandparents’ phone that allows them to block all calls. My grandfather was tired of scammers calling his house, so he fiddled around with the phone and found out he could block calls. My mom was relieved when my uncle called and said that they were alive, and they’d just thought their children’s numbers were scam phone calls. It took a few hours, but my uncle and grandfather managed to fix the phone. My grandfather will never live that down.