I have just given birth to my first child and I still have a lot of baby weight left. As such, I’m feeling rather self-conscious about how I look, and my husband has been trying to make me feel better. When I am in the shower, he comes into the bathroom with our baby daughter.

Husband: “Look, [Baby], it’s your mommy! She’s naked! But that’s okay because she’s beautiful!”

Although touched, I can’t resist responding:

Me: “So, it’s not okay for unattractive people to be naked?”

He laughed and then awkwardly tried to walk back what he had said.

(My husband and I are at a restaurant, checking out the menu. They have the specials on chalkboards on the walls, usually nicely written and decorated. We start discussing one of the specials we are going to actually get.)

Me: “Oooooh, they have loaded schnitzels with cheese, bacon, and mushrooms. Choice of beef or chicken. I think I might get the chicken.”

(My husband turns to look at the sign.)

Husband: “Oh, that sounds good. How much… Hang on. I’m not sure if I want that or not!” *laughing*

Me: “Why? It sounds amazing.”

Husband: “Because it says, ‘Shitzles.’ I’m not sure that would taste great.”

Me: “What? Oh, my goodness, it does, too! Hang on; I will go tell someone.”

(I get up and go to tell our waitress.)

Me: “Hi, I was wondering if you guys realized that the schnitzel sign actually says, ‘Shitzels.’”

Waitress: “What?! Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry!”

Me: “All good! Just figured you would want to change it.”

(I went to sit back down, and then another waitress came running over like a bat out of Hell with cloths and chalk. We all had a pretty good laugh.)

This happens on my younger brother’s tenth birthday. My parents gather my entire family into the dining room after all of the party guests leave and sit seriously on the table.

Dad: “So, [Younger Brother], you’re ten now, so your mother and I have something important to tell you.”

Younger Brother: “What is it? Am I changing school?”

Mom: “No. You’re not actually our child. You’re adopted.”

Younger Brother & Me: “WHAT?!”

Everyone looks at me.

Me: “Oh, right. Sorry. I genuinely forgot that you were adopted.”

Older Brother: “Come on! You’re the one that wanted us to adopt [Younger Brother]. H***, you’re the one that named him!”

Me: “Like I said, I forgot. It’s been a decade.”

Younger Brother: *Teary-eyed* “So, it’s true, I’m not Mommy and Daddy’s child?”

Me: “Yeah. Sorry, [Younger Brother]. Mommy never gave birth to you, unlike me and [Older Brother]. But that doesn’t mean that she’s still not your mother.”

Everyone in room stares at me again

Older Brother: “[My Name], I’m adopted, as well. Remember?”

Younger Brother: “Yeah, even I know that.”

Me: *Sputtering* “Well, it’s been almost two decades by now!”

Younger Brother: *To me* “Are you adopted, as well?”

Me: “No. This time I’m absolutely certain.”

Mom: *Teasingly* “Yeah… about that…”

Me: *Annoyed tone* “Mommy!”

Mom: *Pouts* “Yeah. You’re mine. And the whole reason why I cannot have any more children. That’s why we adopted your brothers.”

Yeah. That was genuinely my fault. My birth was so traumatic that it rendered my mother infertile. Regardless, I still have two amazing brothers whom I love with all my heart. This wasn’t the first time I’d had to be reminded that my brothers aren’t biological and it wasn’t the last time, either. Regardless, I don’t care and neither do they. We’re family through and through. For now and forever.

I’m video-chatting with my sister and almost-three-year-old nephew while he’s in the bath. Obviously, there’s been lots of fun and too much splashing, but he quiets down for a minute and then says:

Nephew: *Looking at his finger* “Mama, can’t find boo-boo.”

Sister: “You can’t find your boo-boo?”

Nephew: “No.”

He starts looking around in the tub.

Sister: “What are you doing?”

Nephew: “Looking for boo-boo!”

Sister: “You’re looking for your boo-boo in the water?”

My sister and I are already laughing, but since she’s sitting there with him she has to keep it together. I, on the other hand, do not!

Nephew: “Yeah! Swim away!”

Sister: “Your boo-boo is swimming away?”

Nephew: “On the wall!”

Sister: “It’s on the wall now?”

Nephew: “Yeah!”

Sister: “Well, what is it doing on the wall?”

Nephew: “Alligator got!” 

Sister: “Oh, an alligator ate your boo-boo? That’s too bad.”

I’m basically dying of laughter. My nephew is suddenly sad and looking at his finger again.

Nephew: “Yeah…”

Sister: “Buddy, don’t worry. It’s actually better to not have a boo-boo, okay?”

My nephew thinks for a second.

Nephew: “Okay.”

Of course, he then immediately went back to playing! Family is fun, even from far away.

(I am eating lunch at my college when a couple of young men sit down at the table nearest me with some snacks of their own. They are close enough that I can hear them talking, and although I don’t speak it, I recognize the language they are speaking is Vietnamese.

It’s also necessary to note that I have Asperger’s Syndrome and one of my peculiarities is noticing and remembering someone’s handedness. It is kind of like noticing someone’s hair color; if you use your hands in a way that demonstrates your laterality, I can’t NOT note your dominant hand, I just do.

So, I can’t help but notice that one of the men nearby is left-handed by the way he eats. They finish quickly and get up to leave, but I notice that the left-handed man has taken his backpack, but neglected to pick up a smaller bag by his chair.)

Me: “Excuse me… Excuse me, sir? Sir?“

(The two are too engaged in their conversation to realize I’m talking to them and are quickly walking to the door to the building. Out of desperation to get his attention, I blurt out the first thing I can think of.)

Me: “Uh… Left-handed Vietnamese guy!”

(The two men stop and slowly turn to look at me with bewildered expressions.)

Me: *awkwardly* “Um… y-you left your bag behind.” *points to the sack by the chair*

(The young man looked surprised when he saw it there, jogged over to pick it up, and thanked me, and they left.)