(I drive a truck, and my nephew is accompanying me. My nephew is still in a car seat, and the law states that it is illegal to have a car-seat in a seat with an air-bag.)

Me: “All buckled up! Alright, let’s get going.”

(She gets all strapped in herself, then realizes she has left the passenger air bags on.)

Me: “Oh, shoot!”

Nephew: “What’s the matter?”

Me: *having trouble with the part that turns off the airbags* “I forgot to turn the airbag off.”

Nephew: “What’s an airbag?”

(She finally turns it off.)

Me: “Well, if we get into an accident, it’s kind of like a big balloon that stops you from moving.”

Nephew: “Oh, so you don’t want me to have that?”

Me: “No, it’s not that. It’s against the law to have it on with you in the truck.”

Nephew: “Oh, so no one wants me to be safe in the car?”

(He begins to tear up and sniffle.)

Me: “You are right. What am I thinking?”

(I pretend to fiddle around with the dashboard.)

Me: “There we go, all turned back on.”

Nephew: “Yay! You do love me!”

(We’re on a road trip when Dad starts hiccupping. I’m the oldest of five kids.)
 
Mom: “Hold your breath!”
 
Dad: “I tried that!”
 
Mom: “I’m pregnant.”
 
Dad: “WHAT?!”
 
Mom: “Did I scare you enough?”
 
Dad: “You’re crazy, you know that? Yes, you scared me enough!”
 
(The next day, it’s Mom that’s hiccupping.)
 
Dad: “Mary, I’m pregnant.”
 
(My mom stares at him, cracks up, and is no longer hiccupping. Since then, our family has cure hiccups by declaring pregnancy.)

(I’m explaining the saying ‘You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar’ to my 9-year-old son.)

Me: “You can get more nice things if you act sweet than if you are sour and nasty.”

Son: “Oh, so the honey is like if I act sweet.”

Me: “Right!”

Son: “And vinegar is if I am being sour and nasty?”

Me: “You got it!”

Son: “And the flies are nice things?”

Me: “Um. I guess so.”

Son: “Why are flies nice things?”

Me: “Um…”

Son: “Who wants to catch flies, anyway? Don’t you want them to go away?”

(I think all he learned is that idioms are stupid!)

(My dad always gets frustrated by the driving skills of other people. If someone cuts him off, drives too slow, turns too quickly, etc., he will honk the horn and say ‘You dumb bunny!’ or ‘Move it, slowpoke!’.” We are just leaving the mall after an afternoon of shopping. There is a line of cars waiting to exit the parking lot. He is impatient with how long it is taking to leave. When there is only one car left in front of us—one driven by a little gray-haired lady—he begins to get really irritated.)

Dad: *yelling* “You had plenty of time to go! Come on! Move it, Grandma!”

(As the car turns onto the street, we were able to see the old lady’s face for the first time. It was actually my Grandma!)

(I drive my brother’s car with my seven-year niece in the back seat. I’ve never driven an automatic car before, and now I’ve done something so that the car does not change gears by itself.)

Niece: “What’s wrong?”

Me: “The car will not shift gear.”

Niece: “Aha.”

Me: “Do not you hear how loud the car sounds? It should not do that.”

Niece: *coming up with the solution* “Turn on the radio, and then you won’t hear it!”