My partner and I are trying to clear our baking cupboard of ingredients. As such, we have found a basic cookie recipe to amend. We chuck in a bunch of random ingredients with the chocolate chips: chopped almonds, maple syrup, a whole glug of vanilla extract, a mix of two sugars, and the remnants of bread flour with plain.

The dough tastes oddly amazing but has the odd blended appearance of glossy cookie dough and dark fudge goodness.

Partner: “Well, the basic recipe did say the cookie dough would look a bit like fudge.”

Me: “Oh! It’s a ‘fookie’!”

Partner: “Oh, God, you can’t call it that.”

I think for a moment, whilst trying to form this franken-cookie goodness into a ball.

Me: “Then it’s… a ‘cudge.’”

Partner: “Somehow, that sounds so much worse.”

Me: “This is one of those funny conversations I can never tell your mother.”

I am a cashier at a gas station. A man comes up to the counter with two young girls. I’ve seen them before, so I know that they are his daughters, but I’ve never talked with them.

Customer: “Do you wanna buy my daughter off me?” 

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “I need to get her off my hands. I’ll give you a good deal!”

Me: “Um… I’m okay… Thanks, though?”

He turned around with his items and his two daughters followed. Neither of them reacted or said anything.

I am shopping in town with my nine-year-old son in tow. Perhaps it’s not such a good idea, but I go into a shop to get myself some new underwear.

We’re in the area where they sell oversized underwear and my cheeky monkey of a son points to a rack of some of the larger items and says in his high-pitched and penetrating voice:

Son: “Look, Mum! Hats for twins!”

And he scampered off, sniggering.

Trouble is, I couldn’t stop laughing. I was still tittering when I got to the checkout, and unfortunately, I set off the member of staff. They say laughter is infectious. I infected the entire store, basically.

When we got outside I gave him one of my famous punishments that aren’t really punishments.

Me: “Just for that, we aren’t going to go up to Buckingham Palace to meet the Queen this afternoon.”

One April morning, the student body got an email.

“In an emergency announcement, it has been reported that the beavers that own [School] are tearing it down. It will be closed Friday, and on Monday, we will resume study in dams. I have included their locations and which students will be attending them in the attachment.

[Attachment]: Beaver Dam Classroom Arrangement

Mabel Syrup

CEO, Beaver Loan Corp”

When I opened the attachment, it had only two words:

“April Fools!”

I’m buying groceries like usual when an item won’t scan.

Cashier: “I’m sorry, but this item isn’t scanning up.”

Me: “Oh, no problem. I’m not in a rush.”

Cashier: “I guess that must mean it’s free, then!”

Me: “I… Uhhh… Pardon?”

She called for a price check, but I never expected to be on the receiving end of that line!