(Our company adds a busser, who is just 16 years old, to our team. The following conversation happens in a quiet moment as two coworkers and I am discussing the Beatrix Potter 50-pence pieces available in the UK.)

Colleague #1: “I only need one more and I’ll have the whole set.”

Me: “I managed to get two whole sets recently; the last one took ages to find, though. Which one do you need?”

Colleague #1: “The Beatrix Potter one, y’know, with the dates and that.”

Colleague #2: “Oh, I need that one, too.”

Busser: “Beatrix Potter! I liked the third film best.”

(We all stare at her.)

Busser: “What?”

Me: “Third film?”

Busser: “Yeah, Harry Potter. I’ve not read the books yet, but I like the films.”

Me: “We’re talking about Beatrix Potter, the author!”

Busser: “Who?”

(I describe to her the books she may know. She just looks blank.)

Busser: “Well, Beatrix Potter… Harry Potter… They’re pretty much the same, anyway!”

Sister: “We’re writing acrostics in English class.”

Dad: “I get acrostic when I don’t get a nap.”

Me: “When you get acrostic do you tell people to take a haiku?”

Dad: “No, but I will now!”

Sister: “I hate both of you.”

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(I am talking to a health-conscious senior coworker who is Russian. She can speak decent English but still has an accent.)

Coworker: “[Manager] gave me a kitty cat, but I feel so guilty eating it.”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Coworker: “I prefer the dark chocolate kind since they’re healthier.”

Me: “Did you mean ‘KIT-KAT’?”

Coworker: “Yeah, I call Kit-Kats ‘Kitty-Kats.’”

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(My little sister is just about at that age where she is learning about sex and starting to ask questions about it. One day my dad and I are watching a show with her when, out of the blue, this happens.)

Sister: “[My Name], what do they call it when a boy puts his thingy inside the girl’s thingy?”

Me: *sputters, looking for an answer*

Dad: “Intercourse!”

Sister: “Oh, I get it! Because it goes in, of course!”

For a few months in the early eighties, my husband and I lived with his parents. They had only one television, and often wanted to watch different channels. On one such night, Mom wanted to watch a slightly raunchy primetime soap opera, while Dad voted for a boxing match.

They decided to drag my husband and me into the debate. I was working on a paper for one of my college classes, so I didn’t really care, but did express an aversion to the violence of boxing.

For some reason, Dad decided the debate was over. As he changed the channel he said, “Violence is better than sex any day.”

We all just stared at him until he realized what he’d said. His embarrassment and bumbling explanations made the rest of us laugh until we cried.