(Because my husband is a fussy eater who will only eat 3 types of vegetables — potatoes, peas, and carrots — I am determined to broaden our children’s palates. When young, both of my children would try anything, but in her teens Daughter became a picky eater, refusing to eat most salad vegetables, only a little iceberg lettuce if forced. She wastes food that she says she doesn’t like by leaving it on her plate to be thrown out. Today we go to a cafe where I order soup and she orders a pie.)

Server: “The pie comes with a salad.”

Daughter: “No salad. Only the pie, thanks.”

Me: “No, please keep the salad.” *thinking I would eat it as I am paying for it*

(Her meal comes out with a nice looking salad. My soup takes a bit longer.)

Me: “I’ll just have some of the salad while I’m waiting, seeing as you won’t eat it.”

(We normally have no problem sharing food. My daughter looks at me and silently turns her plate around so the salad is closer to her and starts eating it. I think to myself that maybe I should keep this trick in mind for the future. My soup arrives and after tasting it, I give her a spoonful to try. I am still amused at watching her eat the types of salad things that she usually refuses, such as mixed salad leaves.)

Daughter: *holding up a julienne cucumber piece* “This is nice.”

Me: “That’s cucumber.” *Daughter looks at it and then me, as if I don’t know what I’m talking about* “It’s just cut different to how I usually cut it.”

(I finish my soup; she seems disappointed I didn’t leave her any. She finishes her pie and goes back to the salad, clearly enjoying it. There’s only a few leaves left before she asks me if I want the rest.)

Me: “Not bad for someone who doesn’t like salad.”

Daughter: “I only ate it because it was there.”

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(I am invited to a friend’s place for a plasticware party, I am asked to bring a friend so I bring my mother. Mum has noticed that the friend has many books that are all turned backwards on her shelves, with the spine to the wall.)

Mum: “I have to ask, why are all these books turned backwards?”

Friend: “Oh, those are all Stephen King books. I used to read them until I started going to church and I realised how evil he is to have been able to write such horrible things. I won’t have them facing into the room.”

Mum: “Why don’t you just donate them somewhere?”

Friend: “Oh, no, that would mean I am passing on his evil to others.”

Mum: “You could just throw them out if you don’t like them that much.”

Friend: “But you don’t throw out perfectly good books; it’s a waste of money. I paid for those.”

(She kept shelves of books deemed unreadable and still complained about the lack of storage in her house for the books she reads.)

(When I was about seven years old, my mother’s aunt died. I over hear the adults talking about the funeral and cremation.)

Me: “What’s cremation?”

Mum: “Oh, it’s instead of being buried, [Great Aunt #1] is going into a special fire.”

Me: *horrified* “They are going to burn her?”

Mum: “Yes, that’s what cremation is.”

(I had never known Great Aunt #1 to have a husband and in my mind I decide that’s what was done to unmarried women when they die — they burn them. Before then I thought that all boys were icky and that I would never get married; afterwards I am determined to get married so I don’t get burned when I die. Many years later, my grandmother has passed and my mother has just got her ashes back from the Crematorium.)

Me: “Did I ever tell you what I thought when I was seven, when [Great Aunt #1] died and was cremated?”

Mum: “I don’t think so.”

Me: “I thought that when women who weren’t married died they were burnt as some sort of punishment. That’s what I thought was done to [Great Aunt #1].”

Mum: “Why would you think that? [Great Aunt #1] was married.”

Me: “I never knew she was married.”

Mum: “You’re thinking of [Great Aunt #2]; she wasn’t married.”

Me: “No, we used to visit her in that old house on the highway in [Town] and I don’t ever remember her being married. [Great Aunt #2] lived on [Road] on the other side of [Town].”

Mum: “Oh, no, you wouldn’t have known. [Great Uncle] died before you were born.”

Me: “Anyway, that’s what I thought; then a year or two later, Dad was talking to [His Sisters] about what happens when they bury a body. He said that the germs would get as big as basket balls while they were eating the body.”

Mum: “He was just joking.”

Me: “I know that now, but all I could think of was what would be worse, getting burned or eaten. I figured burning would be quicker and wouldn’t hurt so much.”

Mum: “You don’t feel pain when you are dead.”

Me: “I know that now but I was nine years old.”

(I still shudder at the thought of being eaten by giant germs.)

(My niece is around two years old but has very advanced speech skills. Shopping with her is always an ordeal because she always takes off running. My sister is pregnant and unable to run after her so buys a toddler harness and lead. This time we are shopping together so she leaves the harness off. My niece of course decides to run out of the shop with me chasing after her. I manage to stop her just outside the door and before she gets to the busy street. She struggles to get out of my grip.)

Niece: “Let go of me.”

Me: “I’m not going to let go until you promise not to run away.”

Niece: “I promise I won’t run away.”

Me: “Okay, let’s go back inside now.”

Niece: “No, I don’t want to.”

Me: “Yes, you are, because I said so.”

Niece: “No, I want to stay here.”

Me: “No, you are coming inside.”

Niece: “Well, I think I’ll just chuck a tantrum then.”

(She looks behind her, sees concrete so gently lowers herself to the ground and takes a deep breath. I’m looking on in quiet amusement and just as she’s ready to start screaming I pick her up by the front of her outfit.)

Me: “Not with me, you don’t.” *carries her back into the shop like she’s a suitcase, she’s so stunned*

Sister: “What are you doing?” *after I explain* “Looks like I have to get the harness out.”

(After she puts it on, my niece is standing by her, nice and content. We leave the shop and an elderly lady notices my niece.)

Lady: “Oh, what a cutie, look at your lovely red curly hair.” *notices harness and snarls to my sister* “How dare you treat that poor baby like she’s a dog. You should be ashamed of yourself. Take that disgusting thing off her right now!”

(My sister, usually very quick-witted and easy to anger, opens her mouth to yell back when my niece starts yelling at the lady in an almost demonic voice:)

Niece: “SHE CAN’T, BECAUSE I ALWAYS RUN OFF!” *gives her an evil grin and goes back to standing contentedly by her mother’s side*

(The woman was so shocked that we left her standing in the middle of the path with her mouth hanging open.)

(I am the type of person who likes to move things around for a fresh look. My husband is the opposite so I usually move things while he’s not home. I’m cleaning the kitchen one day and decide that the microwave needs to be closer to where I prepare food instead of on the other side of the room. Husband walks in as I’m about to pick up the microwave. I usually have to move the microwave out of the spot to clean under and behind it, it’s not heavy to move.)

Husband: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Moving the microwave; it’s in a stupid spot.”

Husband: “Why can’t you just leave it there?”

Me: “Because I have to carry boiling items across the room and avoid toddlers at the same time.” *I start pick it up*

Husband: “That’s too heavy for you. I’ll do it.”

(He makes me put it down and drags it out, dropping the corner and taking a chunk out of the wooden bench top.)

Me: “Look at what you just did.”

Husband: “That thing was heavy. You would have dropped the whole thing.”

Me: “I move that microwave all the time, and have never dropped it.”

Husband: “See? This is why I don’t want you moving things around. Things get damaged.”

Me: “No, this is why I move things while you aren’t home because I don’t damage things.”

Husband: “I told you it was too heavy.”