(My sister, her daughter and I are sitting in my sister’s car. We want to go for a walk in the park, and we’re waiting for my sister’s husband to bring the dog from her garden.)

Daughter: “Why aren’t we going? What are we waiting for?”

Mother: “Don’t you think there’s someone missing?”

Daughter: “No?”

Mother: “Can’t you guess? He’s very small.”

Daughter: “Uh…”

Mother: “He’s also really, really hairy, and when he gets wet he smells like wet dog.”

Daughter: *slaps her forehead* “Of course! It’s Dad!”

(I am home with my young daughter and husband. I am deathly afraid of spiders, and my daughter knows it. She comes in from the back garden, her hands cupped, sporting a devilish smile.)

Me: “Uh, honey?”

(My daughter slowly approaches me, revealing she has a small spider in her hand.)

Me: “Honey, don’t come any closer! Mummy is scared of spiders!”

(My husband then grabs my daughter and carries her away.)

Daughter: “But daddy! You’re not scared of spiders!”

Husband: “Yes, but I am scared of your mother!”

(My mom has a habit of not collecting her thoughts before giving me some sort of order.)

Mom: “Hey, I need you to do that… that thing!”

Me: “With the stuff? That comes from the things?”

Mom: “Yes, that!”

(She is telling me to clean the kitty-litter box.)

(I am planning to get a small holding to start a mobile farm. My sister and I live together.)

Me: “So, what animals would you want on the farm?”

Sister: “Meerkats, a turkey, a runner duck, and lots of dogs. Oh, and a pig. I’m going to call the pig ‘Duck’.”

Me: “Umm, why?”

Sister: “So when I have kids and they get asked at school what noise does a duck make, they’ll answer, ‘Oink’!”

(My sister is 8 and I’m 4. We’ve gown up around horses riding our dad’s since before we could walk. My oldest sister had just gotten a free pony after begging for her own for years. My dad isn’t happy but has agreed to keep the pony. It’s winter, just after a snow storm and my sister has been thrown from the pony into a huge snow pile. I’m laughing at her.)

Sister: “I’d like to see you do any better!”

Me: “Bet I can!”

(I get on the pony and she takes off trying to get me off by turning sharp and getting almost too close to trees. She finally slides to a stop, causing me to lean forward before, rearing up and throwing me into a frozen water trough.)

Mom: “That pony’s sure got good aim.”

Dad: “Good. Now maybe they’ll stop asking us for pets.”

Me: “Daddy, I want a better pony!”

Dad: “D*** it!”