(We have recently moved into a new house across from a family with lots of kids. The neighbor comes over, and points to me playing in the yard.)

Neighbor: “Is that your oldest daughter?”

Mom: “Well, sort of; she’s the only one.”

Neighbor: “You have boys then?”

Mom: “Nope, just her.”

(The neighbor suddenly looks sad.)

Neighbor: “Oh, you just have the one?”

Mom: “Yeah, I did it right the first time.”

(The neighbor never mentioned my only-child status again.)

(I’m pregnant, and texting my sister about not being able to handle certain smells. I’m worried about walking to and from the grocery store, because there are a dozen restaurants near my apartment building. My sister has recently had a baby, and had the same problem when she was pregnant.)

Me: “I think I need to buy those doctor face masks.”

Sister: “Oh, I have some. Remind me and I’ll give them to you.”

Me: “What? Why do you have some?”

Sister: “Yeah, mom stole me some from the hospital.”

Me: “Um, that’s not weird at all.”

(My dad and I are eating dinner. The topic comes up of two incredibly homophobic people we know.)

Dad: “Yeah, I just feel sorry for their son when he comes out.”

Me: “Really? I don’t think that he’s gay. What made you think that?”

Dad: “Well, he’s in the drama club.”

Me: “Dad, I’m in drama club, and I’m not gay.”

Dad: “Are you sure?”

Me: “I have a girlfriend.”

Dad: “So did Elton John!”

(My aunt is visiting for the weekend. She and my mom are chatting while they cook.)

Mom: “[My name], would you put up a new jug of water?”

(I go and lift the 30 lb. jug onto the water machine. The ladies continue to chat as mom cooks.)

Mom: “[My name], would you open this jar of spaghetti sauce?”

(I open the jar, which is stuck pretty hard. It requires quite a bit of elbow grease. I open it, then hand it back to mom. They continue chatting.)

Mom: “You know, there’s really only two things we need men for: heavy lifting and opening jars.”

Aunt: “Hah! That’s all they’re good for, all right!”

Me: “Anything else you need me to lift or unscrew, since those are the only two things I’m good for?”

Mom: “No, that’s it. You can go.”

(She turns back to the stove, but shrieks in horror.)

Mom: “Yuck! A cockroach! [My name], get it!”

Me: “Not until you admit that men are good for THREE things!”

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