(My older sister and I have finished shopping at a thrift store and are waiting in line to check out. There are lots of families in the store, and soon there is an announcement over the store’s PA system.)

Store PA: “For safety reasons, children cannot be left unattended in the store. Please make sure your children are with you at all times.”

(While we wait, I’ve decided to look at the jewelry displays on the other side of the register counters. I am gone for maybe a minute, but out of the corner of my eye I notice my sister is already talking to someone, which isn’t that unusual, given how outgoing she is. She’s in her mid-20s and is talking with a man who looks to be in his 40s. When I return, I do not expect to hear the following.)

Random Man: “It’s important to keep up with the trends to look presentable. I have thousand-dollar suits, but this was too good a deal to pass up. I mean, eight dollars?” *holds up old-looking, yellow-ish and tan blazer* “One time, it was raining and I didn’t want to ruin my fancy shoes, so I wore grungy shoes—”

Sister: “And you brought the other pair to change into?”

Random Man: “No. But wearing those shoes turned out to be a mistake.”

(I’ve been silent, trying to figure out why she’s talking to him about work clothes. She suddenly turns to me.)

Sister: *in a louder, more excited voice* “I’m thinking about going back and buying that Super Truck video game.”

Me: *groaning* “Please, no. That game looked so stupid.”

Sister: *continues pointedly talking to only me* “Nah, it looked fun!”

(I get the feeling she’s trying to avoid talking to the man again, and we continue to chatter about video games until we reach the register. We pay quickly and dash out the door before he can follow us.)

Me: *Incredulous* “Was that man in a thrift store trying to hit on you by saying he has thousand-dollar suits?!”

Sister: “Yeah! I don’t know how I get all these random guys hitting on me! He was definitely way older than me and not that attractive. He just started talking about how he was going to get [the blazer] tailored.”

Me: *joking* “I should have known better. They clearly said not to leave your children unattended in the store, for safety reasons.”

Sister: *also joking* “Yeah, this is all your fault.”

(My sister is always on what I call “HER time.” This means that she’ll call or talk to you when it’s convenient for her. To this day, she still doesn’t pay attention to the time difference between us and will call at a good time for her but a terrible time for me. When we were living under the same roof, she used to do this when I was napping. This results in one exchange when I am napping after an opening shift.)

Sister: “[My Name], wake up.”

Me: *groans*

Sister: “[My Name], come on. You have to show me how to do that thing with my iPod.”

Me: *mumbles something*

Sister: “[My Name]!”

Me: *whispers* “Bathing cap.”

Sister: “What?”

Me: “BATHING… CAP!”

Sister: *giggling* “Why do I need a bathing cap for my iPod?”

Me: “Well, you want to change your outfit, don’t you?”

(Thankfully, my sister decided to let me sleep after this, and I woke up later with no recollection of this happening.)

(When my parents married, they waited five years until they had me. They always wanted another child but decided to wait until I was five. My sister had other plans, apparently, and was born only two years later. My sister and I jokingly fight:)

Me: “Oh, yeah? Well, at least I wasn’t an accident!”

Sister: “I. Was. A. Miracle!”

(I grew up gay, and since I was little I have loved to dress in women’s clothing rather than men’s. My parents don’t like it, but let me do it. I soon meet the man I would marry and we hit it off. When my tribe allows same-sex marriage, we naturally decide to get married. My twin sister decides to give him The Talk while I’m with my mother, putting on my dress and makeup. One thing to note about my twin sister is she is fiercely protective of me, even going so far as to beat up childhood bullies.)

Twin Sister: “Hey, [Husband].”

Husband: “Oh, hi there, [Twin Sister]. Why are you in here?”

Twin Sister: “Just wanted to let you know something. If you ever make [My Name] feel like s*** for who he is, I’ll know, and I’ll end you. Capisce?”

Husband: “Yeah, capisce…”

(I only want to share that because of something that happened later on. We were in an argument, and my husband decided to attack me where it hurt: my cross-dressing. I left our home crying and decided to call my twin sister to spend the night at her home. She accepted me in and soon left for two hours, coming back with some food for us to eat. The next morning arrived and the doorbell rang. I answered to find [Husband] looking as if he had been put through the wringer. I was confused until he flinched when my sister leaned on the doorway behind me. It all made sense after that. I soon forgave him and so did [Twin Sister]. We never got into an argument that bad again, and he has never insulted my cross-dressing again.)

(My eighteen-month-old son has found out about how doors open. He loves to slam the garage door, and he likes to hold the refrigerator door open. He glares at me whenever I close it, usually a few seconds later, as I like to follow him when he’s headed to the kitchen. One day, I ask his sister to keep her eye on him while I run to the bathroom, but I don’t say anything about following him around to prevent mischief. When I finish in the bathroom, I go into the kitchen to grab something super quick, because I assume the kids are in their playroom, but I find my son in the kitchen with the fridge open. He’s sitting in the middle of what looks like a tiny yellow island, grinning from ear to ear, squeezing mustard out of its container. He looks at me and starts drinking the mustard.)

Me: “[Son]! Mustard is not a drink!”

Son: *stops squeezing the mustard container, and looks at me* “But it’s good, Mama!”

Me: “You may like it, but I don’t think the floor likes it very much.”

(My daughter hears the commotion, and runs out of the playroom.)

Daughter: “Uh… What? Oh, Mommy, he was playing and then I didn’t see him. I thought he was in the tent playing sleepy night-night time.”

Me: “That… That’s not a game. Please help me clean this. And remind me to text Daddy to tell him we need a fridge lock.”

(After cleaning the mess thoroughly, and bathing my son, I sent a text to my husband asking him to pick up a fridge lock on his way home, and I installed it that night. Seven years later, we still tease our son that mustard is not a drink.)