CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.
(My dad walks up to me, clutching the right side of his chest and moaning.)
Me: “Oh my God! What’s wrong?”
Dad: “I’m having a heart attack.”
Me: “No, you’re not.”
Dad: “Yes, I am!”
Me: “No, you’re not.”
Dad: “How do you know?”
Me: “Your heart’s on your left side.”
(He looks down at his chest and bursts out laughing.)
Dad: “Well. I guess you’re right.”
(My mother really likes Buddha statuettes. She has been talking about how much she likes them and how much she wants one, when one of our local stores sends out a flyer that shows a couple of Buddha statuettes they will be selling next week. I bring the flyer to my mother to show her.)
Me: “Hey, [Store] is going to be selling Buddha statuettes next week.”
Mother: “I know. I really like them, but I can’t afford to spend that kind of money.”
Me: “Which one do you like the most? The one with the spiky thing on its head or the one without?”
Mother: “I like the one with the spike the most.”
(A few days pass and then Monday arrives. On my way home from school I walk into the store in question, find the statuettes, and get the one my mother said she liked the most. I place it on her desk once I’m home and then immediately go to my room to take a nap. A few hours later, my mother wakes me up for dinner. I go join my parents in the kitchen.)
Mother: “How did you pay for that Buddha?”
(I’m a bit surprised, as I don’t understand what she’s asking, and I had expected her to seem at least a little bit happy with the statuette.)
Me: “Um, with money?”
Mother: “Your money or my money?”
Me: “My money.”
Mother: “So, how much do you want from me?”
Me: “What?”
Mother: “How much do I owe you?”
Me: “Nothing. It’s a gift.”
Mother: “Oh. Well… Thank you!”
(I have no idea why she thought I would have paid for it with her money, or how I would even get my hands on her money. At least that explains why she didn’t seem happy at all at first. After dinner I heard her happily announce, “I have a Buddha!” to herself from time to time, so I know she appreciated the gift after all.)
(This entire conversation, except for one word, takes place in Estonian. My father’s English isn’t very good, but he does know a lot of words.)
Father: “What was the name of the new British prince again?”
Me: “George.”
Father: “Jaws? That’s an odd name for a kid. Wait, is the entire British royalty named after body parts?”
This story is part of our Father’s Day roundup.
(I work in a store that sells kitchen utensils. A customer has put some items on the counter, including a packaged knife. The knife is a very bright colour, and as she puts it down, her four-year-old daughter reaches out to grab it.)
Customer: “No, honey. I have to pay for it first, but you can play with it when we get home.”
Me: “Excuse me, but that’s a knife, not a toy.”
Customer: “I know it’s a knife; it’s one of those plastic ones. She can have it.”
Me: “No, it’s a real knife. It’s very sharp; it will cut her.”
Customer: “No, it’s plastic. Look at the colour.”
Me: “That’s a painted-on coating. Look right on the edge; you can see the metal edging of the blade.”
Customer: “Oh, well, what’s that for? It’s obviously plastic.” *points to a separate plastic item in the package*
Me: “That’s the scabbard, to protect and cover the blade.”
Customer: “Oh. We don’t want it, then.” *turns to daughter* “You can’t have the knife, because the mean lady said so.”
Hopping online one day, I notice I have a message with an attachment, and open it. What is enclosed is adult imagery. This alone catches me off guard, enough to stop and wonder what is going on.
That’s when my mother, who is on the phone with my grandmother, looks at my computer and shouts, “ARE YOU LOOKING AT P*RN?!”
Instantly I can hear my grandmother laughing through the speaker, and I have to explain the situation. After that my mother explains everything to my grandmother, who can’t stop laughing.
