(My sister is a great cook, but very ditzy. She has just put the turkey in the oven for Thanksgiving. My mother is a great prankster.)

Mom: *to my sister* “Honey, we’re out of chicken broth. Can you run to the store and
grab some more?”

Sister: “Sure, mom.”

(She leaves.)

Mom: *opening the oven and taking the turkey out* “Open the fridge, hun.”

Me: *opening the fridge* “Why? What are you doing?”

Mom: “Just check the crisper drawer.”

Me: *pulls out a Cornish game hen* “What?”

Mom: “Here, season it.”

(I do as she says. My mother slides it inside the turkey’s cavity, and sticks it back in the oven. I start to get a sense of what she’s doing. Later, my sister is carving the turkey before the extended family.)

Sister: “Ohmigod!” *tugs out the Cornish game hen*

Mom: “You’ve cooked a pregnant turkey!”

Sister: “Ohmigod!” *bursts out sobbing*

(It took us a half hour to convince her that turkeys lay eggs!)