(My mom is a “city girl,” meaning she grew up without the experiences of a rural lifestyle. She has never been on any type of recreational vehicle whatsoever. This day, my mom and dad are driving past the neighbor’s house when she notices a For Sale sign.)

Mom: “Oh, look, the neighbors are selling their… um… water motorcycle!”

Dad: *pauses while considers what she’s trying to describe* “Water motorcycle? Wait, you mean a jet ski?!”

Mom: “Yeah, a jet ski! I couldn’t think of the word.”

Dad: “Honey, that’s a snowmobile.”

(I manage the children’s section of a bookstore, where we also sell stuffed animals. I am putting some books away when a little boy of about four or five excitedly grabs a stuffed woolly mammoth from the display.)

Boy: “Elephant!”

Me: *cheerfully* “Actually, that’s a woolly mammoth!”

(He pauses and side-eyes me, looking between me and the toy like he’s not sure he believes me.)

Boy: “Elephant?”

Me: “Mammoth. See? It has fur.”

(Still skeptical, the boy goes to where his mom is browsing and tugs on her sleeve.)

Boy: “Mommy, is this an elephant or a mammoth?”

Mother: *glances down* “Elephant.”

(I hope that kid gets sent to a good school.)

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(My dad is away on business, so I go over to my parents’ house to keep my mom company. My mother is notorious in our family for HATING any films with excess CGI, but she demands that we watch something “easy and brainless” so I put on “Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 2” and hope for the best. Fast forward to the next day and my dad coming home. He and I are standing in the kitchen talking and listening to music when my mom comes dancing in.)

Mom: *happily, while dancing around* “I am Grout!”

Me: “‘Groot,’ Mama. You’re ‘Groot.’”

Mom: *happy and still dancing* “I am Groot!”

(My mother dances back out of the room. My father turns to me with a bewildered look on his face.)

Dad: “Is your mom high?!”

(I cracked up. Much to my surprise, my mother had really enjoyed the movie… Especially Baby Grout — er — Groot!)

(My parents rarely show romantic affection towards one another, particularly out in public. We’re all in the family SUV, and we’ve just gone through the drive-thru at a fast food place when I notice my order’s not right.)

Me: “Oh, geez, they forgot the honey for my chicken nuggets.”

Dad: *pats Mom’s leg* “I’ve got my honey right here.”

Mom: “Aw, you’re so sweet!”

Dad: “Just like you; you’re my sweet bee s***.”

(It’s the early ‘90s, and a lot of “portable” technology is still pretty expensive. My parents and I have just gotten back from visiting my grandparents’ house in Florida. It was a long, three-day drive, and upon arriving home late that night we’re all very tired and hungry.)

Mom: “I’m thinking of putting on a frozen pizza. How does that sound?”

Dad: “Excellent. We’ll unload the car while you pre-heat the oven.”

(A couple of minutes later, the oven has started to heat up, yet something seems off.)

Me: “Mom? Dad? Something smells really funny in the kitchen.”

Mom: “It almost smells like burning rubber or something.” *sudden gasp of realization* “[Neighbor]’s camcorder!”

Me: “What?!”

(Sure enough, Mom and Dad turn the oven off and open the door to find the melted remains of what was once a very expensive, new recording device.)

All: “…”

Mom: “Oh, NO…”

Me: “Why was [Neighbor]’s new portable video recorder in the oven?!”

Mom: “We borrowed it for [Event] and didn’t get a chance to return it before they left on their vacation.”

Me: “But why the oven?!”

Dad: “I thought it would be safe there! No one would look for a VCR machine in an oven!”

Mom: “Well, we’ve certainly proven that part right.”

(My parents bought him an entirely new machine; thankfully, he found the whole story hilarious. We also learned an important lesson: always check your ovens before turning up the heat!)

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