A Stirring Story

| Niagara Falls, ON, Canada | Grandparents, Siblings

(My sister and I are in our mid-twenties. My grandmother is 87 and has been ordering frozen meal delivery for about a year now. She can still drive and likes to go out for dinner, so she’s just been ordering lunches. Still, she doesn’t always eat them and has a huge stack in her freezer.)

Grandma: *to my sister* “Can you go microwave me a meal?”

Sister: “Sure. It looks like there’s spaghetti, salmon, and lasagna.”

Grandma: “Oh, I don’t like fish. How about lasagna.”

(My sister gets the lasagna out of the freezer and neither of us can find microwave instructions on the package.)

Sister: “How do you cook this?”

Grandma: “Oh, I put it in for about five minutes, stir it up, then do another two or so.”

(My sister goes to the kitchen, after a few minutes the microwave beeps and there is a brief pause before…)

Sister: “How do I stir lasagna?”


Only An A**-Hole Would Think That

| WI, USA | Parents & Guardians

Dad: “You know that sign your mom put over the stairs?”

Me: “‘Whatever you are, be a good one?’”

Dad: “Yeah. Sometimes I read it and think, ‘I want to be an a**-hole.’”


Back-Seat Mothers

| Vancouver, BC, Canada | Parents & Guardians

(My mother is an incredibly nervous backseat driver who insists on sitting in the passenger seat when somebody else is driving. My parents have asked me to drive them downtown to get on their cruise ship. It’s an incredibly busy time of day, so I’m nervous enough as it is. It’s a warm, sunny summer day and the roads are perfect.)

Mom: *gasp of horror*

Me: “What happened?” *looking around to see if I almost hit something*

Mom: “Sorry, that guy in the next lane was pulling up next to you.”

(A few minutes later:)

Mom: *gasps again, starts slamming an imaginary brake*

Me: “What is it?” *looking around again nervously*

Mom: “Sorry! I didn’t know if that car was stopping at that red light.” *she points way ahead*

Me: “Mom, please calm down. I’m nervous enough as it is.”

Mom: “Sorry, I’ll try.”

(A few minutes after that I’m cautiously driving through a major intersection. I pull into the middle of the intersection.)

Mom: *screaming frantically* “[My Name], WATCH OUT!”

(In an absolute panic, I slam on the brakes hard enough to slightly skid. My father and a friend in the backseat get coffee all over themselves, horns start blaring behind me from the abrupt stop, and we’re all thrown forward into our seatbelts.)

Dad: “Oh, my god, what happened?”

Me: *looking around frantically* “I don’t know. Mom just started screaming. Mom, what was it?”

Mom: “…”

(The car behind us honks again; the people in the next lane are passing us and staring in confusion. Luckily the light is still green.)

Me: “Mom, what?”

Mom: “…that guy up ahead turned his signal light on. I thought he was going to change lanes.”

(The embarrassment seemed to fix her though; after realizing how psychotic she was getting, she’s been much better ever since!)


Oranges And Chickens And Ham, Oh My

| Edmonton AB, Canada | Children, Sons & Daughters

(My six-year-old son just bought a notebook which he calls his “secret diary.” The fact that it’s supposed to be a secret never stops him from leaving it wide open on the kitchen table every day since he got it. Of course, whenever he does this, I take advantage of it. Here are some things I saw in the diary.)

Monday: “Peanut butter + jam = good. Ham + cheese = good. Peanut butter + ham = not bad. Jam + cheese = gross.”

Tuesday: “I wore shoes inside and no one found out.”

Wednesday: *nothing on the page but a badly-drawn picture of a chicken*

Thursday: “I like oranges.”


Bop-It To The Next Generation

| Louisville, KY, USA | Cousins

(My fourteen-year-old cousin is visiting for the weekend. I’m 26. This exchange takes place while we’re watching videos together.)

Cousin: “Do you know what ‘Bop-It’ is?”

Me: “I was playing ‘Bop-It’ before you were born.”

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