(I am married to a dairy farmer and, as a tomboy, have a long history with guns, knives, and other such implements. My older sister is the exact opposite of myself and literally is unable to even change a light bulb. We are opening Christmas presents at a distant country relative’s house and I have my good knife on me, an automatic double edged 5″ blade. I am using it to open tough plastic packaging.)

Sister: “Let me use your knife real quick.”

Me: *hesitating* “Are you sure? It’s really heavy, and both edges are sharp. I brought my whetstone with me and I was bored last night, so it’s… really sharp.”

Sister: “It’s fine. I know what I’m doing. Give! I’m older, so listen to me.”

Me: “Uh…okay. You’re sure? It’s really sharp. The blade is automatic and locks in place. The framing is metal. This isn’t a real forgiving blade here.”

Sister: “Give me the d*** knife.”

(I give it to her with the blade already extended, handle first.)

Me: “Make sure to cut away from your body and keep all your fingers away from the cutting angle.”

Sister: “I know what I’m doing!”

(Five seconds later, she cuts herself, and the knife plunges a good half inch into her hand. She screams, drops the knife, and blood actually spurts across the room. I calmly grab her hand, drag her to the kitchen, and run cold water over the wound while pulling up a local emergency center on my phone. Finding one, I wrap her hand and drive her there. She complains the entire time that my knife was too sharp, that I should’ve stopped her, that it was irresponsible of me, etc. The doctor asks her what happened. I find myself jumping in, exasperated.)

Me: “She decided to be a know-it-all dumba** and pretend she knew something about using a knife. So instead of listening to her tomboy, Smith and Wesson-toting, Winchester-loving, little sister, she thought she’d be a right cute city slicker and do everything the wrong way.”

Doctor: “Ah.” *looks at my sister* “We don’t look too kindly on stupidity in the country, missy. Listen to your sister next time.”

Sister: “But it was sharp!”

Doctor: “It’s a knife. It’s supposed to be.” *to me* “I know you’re carrying right now. Do me a favor and keep her away from it. She’ll blow her entire foot off next time.”

(My sister is a lesbian and after our mother doesn’t react very well to her coming out, she is nervous about telling our more conservative father.)

Sister: “Dad, I need to tell you something.”

Dad: “Okay.”

Sister: “I’m gay.”

Dad: “That’s nice. What do you want for dinner?”

(A couple months later she became a vegetarian.)

Sister: “Dad, I’m a vegetarian.”

Dad: “What? Why would you do something like that!”

Sister: “This is what you have a problem with?”

Dad: “Of course! Being a vegetarian is a choice!”

(I work in the electronics department of a major retailer, so there are security alarms. Normally, they’re supposed to go off when unpaid merchandise leaves the department, but sometimes it reacts to certain customers’ clothing. This happens to an unattended child, who looks to be about 5 years old. He finds this amusing, so he goes in and out of the entrance repeatedly.)

Me: “Excuse me, can you stop doing that, please?”

(He doesn’t listen to me at all. He keeps going back and forth, setting off the alarms and giggling to himself. While this is happening, I am also serving a young married couple, who also witness this.)

Husband: “Honey, I’m having second thoughts about starting a family.”

Wife: “Me too, sweetie…”

(I am a gay male. We’re at a family night, and I’m with my two older brothers and their families as well as my boyfriend. My six-year-old nephew brings up an interesting topic during supper.)

Nephew: *to me* “Today, I was talking about you and [boyfriend], and my friend’s mom said I shouldn’t spend time with you anymore.”

Sister-in-law: “Why not, sweetie?”

Nephew: “Because they’ll turn me into a dirty gay. But you’re not dirty so…”

Mom: “Don’t worry honey, your uncle and [boyfriend] aren’t dirty, and they don’t turn you gay.”

Me: “Yeah, moms do that.”

(The table erupted into laughter, and apparently when Monday came around he actually told his friends mother that it’s moms who make people gay.)

(My dad is a teacher, and works in a school in a not-so-great area. Most of the kids he teaches come from one-parent homes.)

Mum: “I don’t understand why people say that homosexuality is too hard for young children to understand.”

Dad: “Exactly! All you’ve got to tell them is that some kids have a mummy and a daddy, some kids have two mummies and some have two daddies. Whereas most of the kids I teach have a mum, two or three ‘uncles’, and dad gets out of jail in a few years.”