(My father really likes his wine; he will drink two or three glasses a night with dinner. I get into a conversation with him about foods.)

Me: “Well technically, chocolate is poison.”

Dad: “So is coffee. Cocoa beans have caffeine, which is poison. Anything that ends in i-n-e is poison; Caffeine, Nicotine—”

Me: “Wine.”

Dad: “….”

(My brother-in-law has to clear a blockage in the septic tank. His 12-year-old son is holding a torch for him, so he can see while he tries to clear the mess.)

Son: “I don’t know why you’re going to all this effort, dad. Just throw a couple of laxatives in there, and it’ll sort itself out.”

(My eight-year-old cousin is visiting, and we’re making fun of each other. I’m 16.)

Cousin: “My food looks gross.”

Me: “So does your face.”

Cousin: “Only because I’m related to you.”

Me: “Oh, yeah? Well… I mean… d*** it!”

(I am in the backseat, while my older brother is in the front with my mother. Her cell phone rings.)

Mom: “Hey, [older brother], will you answer that for me?”

Brother: “Sure, hello?”

(It’s my mother’s boss.)

Brother: “Yeah, my mom’s around. I told her to go on a diet for years, but she never listens.”

(You can hear through the phone how hard my mom thwacks my brother.)

(I’m visiting my sister while her husband is away. She has two sons, aged two years old, and 12 months. I’m holding the baby while she folds laundry, when the older nephew walks up and touches her leg.)

Nephew: “Ew, Mommy pokey! You shave!”

Me: “Is my Brother-in-law teaching him bad habits already?”

Sister: “Nope, that’s all him!”