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    Establishing Hoarder’s Borders

    | Portland, OR, USA | Parents & Guardians

    Mom: “You shouldn’t rot in your own filth.”

    Me: “I can’t motivate myself to clean my room. I keep trying to.”

    Mom: “I’ll be happy to do it for you if you let me.”

    Me: “Only if you let me play hoarder victim and ensure you don’t throw my stuff out.”

    Mom: “We’ll prop you in a chair and you can lovingly stroke your trash before I toss it.”

    26 Ways To Shut Up

    | UT, USA | Children, Sons & Daughters, Spouses & Partners

    (My son is about five months old when he learns how to screech. My husband and I are getting ready for the day, and my son starts screeching. We’re in the bathroom, so I hand him one of his bath letters.)

    Me: “Here, play with the letter ‘Q.’”

    Husband: “Yeah, ‘Q’ for quiet.”

    (The next day, the scene is repeated, minus my husband. Both times, I’m handing my son letters at random.)

    Me: “Here, play with the letter ‘S.’ For shush.”

    Zeppelins Made Out Of Metal(lica)

    | New Delhi, India | Siblings

    (My brother is a guitarist and a serious metal-head. I am telling him about a dream I had a few days back.)

    Me: “So I had this dream where we were having a party at our house and you were playing that Metallica song Stairway to Heaven.”

    Brother: “That’s a Led Zeppelin song!”

    Me: “Yes, but in the dream it was by Metallica.”

    Brother: “That is the most stupid dream I’ve ever heard.”

    Me: “Don’t lose your s*** over it.”

    Brother: “You don’t mess with Metallica discography, even in your dreams. Your subconscious in tainted. Get a therapist.”

    It Would Be A Great Feat(us) To Remember

    | IL, USA | Parents & Guardians

    (It is my dad’s birthday and my whole family is eating dinner at the table together for the first time in years. The conversation gets slight off topic as usual.)

    Mom: “You’ve been to Boston before. Do you remember it?”

    Me: “No, mom.”

    Mom: “You went with me on a business trip.”

    Me: “Okay, cool. I don’t—”

    Mom: “I was four months pregnant, so you were there.”

    Me: “I don’t remember that! Why would I remember that?! I was a fetus, mom!”

    Mom: “You were still there! You. Were. Still. There!”

    Me: “Mom, that’s not the same thing. Being a fetus is not the same thing. There is no possible way I could remember that!”

    Dad: “… Call me when it’s time to open my presents.”

    A Little Bit Of Honesty

    | Tampa, FL, USA | Aunts & Uncles, Children, Nephews & Nieces, Siblings

    (My brother was outside playing football with our five-year-old nephew. He comes into the house laughing.)

    Brother: “So, [Nephew] tackled me.  He then told me, ‘I’m sorry, [Uncle]. I licked you just a little when I tackled you.’”

    Me: “Just a little?”

    Brother: “Just a little.”


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