I am checking customers out during a very busy day. A woman is in my line with her very young son.

Son: “Mommy, did you fart?”

Everyone in the line hears this but remains deathly silent, while the mother goes a shade of red but says nothing. A few unbearable moments of silence pass.

Son: “Well? Did you, Mo—”

Mother: “Shut up!”

A small girl has found a toy she wants and keeps asking her mom to buy it.

Girl: “Can I have this?”

Mom: “No.”

Girl: “Please?”

Mom: “No, we’re not buying anything today.”

Girl: “I want it!”

Mom: “No, I’m not buying it.”

The girl proceeds to ask again and again and again, following her mother all the way around the store, but the mother does not give in.

Girl: “I WANT IT! I WANT IT! IWANTITIWANTITIWANTITIWANTIT—”

They leave the store, the girl following her mom yelling about how she wants the toy. I can hear them long after they exit the bookstore. Then, twenty minutes later, the girl comes back with her dad. 

Dad: “Is this the one you wanted?”

Girl: “Yes.”

He bought the toy for her and they left the store.

I am quarantined at home with my family, given the current health situation. It’s pretty boring after a while, so I decide to rearrange the house. My daughter keeps me company with her laptop while I sort through the liquor cabinet.

Me: “Hey, baby, look! We have some [Expensive Wine]! We should open it one of these days, don’t you think?”

Daughter: “Hmm? Yeah, sure…”

Me: “I’m serious! Can’t let it go to waste; it’s pretty good.”

My daughter looks up from the screen, smirking.

Daughter: “Mama, that’s what you said when you got it. Every time we get a wine bottle, we just stick it in that cabinet for a couple of years and then regift it to someone. Face it; we’re pretty boring people.”

I can’t be mad at her. She’s right.

My brother and I are kids, about eight and six, and we just finished watching “Mary Poppins” on TV. We liked it and we’re going around imitating her and her songs.

Dad: “Why are they singing?”

Mom: “Oh, they just finished watching something.”

Dad: “What?”

Mom: “It’s called Mary Poppings I think.”

Dad: “Poppings? What?”

I dance by, singing in a bad British accent.

Me: “Just a spoonful of sugaaa makes da medicine go dowonnnn!“

Dad: “Why are you singing weirdly like that?”

Me: “I dunno. It’s how she sings!”

Mom: “They have British accents.”

Dad: “Ohh.”

Me: “Mom, what’s ‘British’?”

She just shook her head, and much later I learned about it. It’s funny to picture little me going around singing in a bad British accent before I even knew what it was. And before Brits get upset, I did and still like it; otherwise, I wouldn’t have tried to copy them, so no hate here.

When I am in college, I am still living at home. I am also working but share a car with my parents — that is, I get it if neither of them needs it. This particular day, my dad is picking me up from work. We are in the car on the freeway during rush hour.

I have a horrible migraine that isn’t being helped by the stop and go of the semi next to us; sunlight is hitting between the cab and the load the driver is carrying and I am just not feeling well. I’ve started trying to turn to the best of my ability, closing my eyes as I am leaning against the window. I am very single.

Dad: *Side-eyeing me* “Are you all right?

Me: “Yeah, just a headache. Semi isn’t helping.”

Dad: *Still side-eyeing me* “You sure you’re okay?”

Me: *Opening my eyes* “Yeah, why?”

Dad: “It’s just… you’re not… you’re not pregnant, are you?”

Me: “No!”

Dad: “Okay, okay. Do you know how that works, though?”

Me: “Yeah, do you?”

Dad: “Of course, I do!”

Me: “Well, I’m missing one very key part of that equation!”

I started laughing at the look of shock on his face. Really, even if I had been pregnant, he would have been fine, but I think he was more surprised by my response.