Don’t Make It Into A Habit

| NY, USA | Siblings, Top

(My sister is playing ‘Assassins Creed: Revelations’ for the first time.)

*slicing noise*

Sister: “Oh my God!”

Me: “What?”

Sister: “I just killed someone!”

(She starts laughing hysterically.)

Me: “What?!”

Sister: “It’s an innocent person! Look, I’m standing on top of her!”

Me: “Oh, dear God.”

Sister: *continues laughing hysterically* “Oh, crap. I think it’s a nun!”

Not The Sound Of Music

| Ottawa, ON, Canada | Parents & Guardians, Top

(I’m listening to music with one ear-bud. My mom and I are on our laptops when she lets one rip.)

Me: “Mom!”

Mom: “What?”

Me: “You can’t blame that one on the dog.”

Mom: “Oh, I thought you had your headphones in!”

Me: “Not… always… related… .com… Add quote.”

Mom: “Is nothing sacred anymore!?”

Has No Problem Espresso-ing Himself

| Phoenix, AZ, USA | Children, Sons & Daughters, Top

(I am Italian. My son is about 4-years-old. My 6-year-old daughter gives him an extra tea set she does not want. I walk into his room to find him with the tea set. It is set out with several toys; teddy bear, Batman, Power ranger, T-Rex, etc.)

Me: “So, are you having a tea party?”

(He looks at me rather quizzically. He holds up the pot and points to it.)

Son: “This is espresso!”

(I shed a tear and feel so proud, as espresso is so much a part of our family. He is in college now. The first thing I bought him for his dorm room: an espresso machine!)

From NotAlwaysRight:
Has No Problem Espresso-ing Herself

The Bag Is A Steal, But Nanny Is A Riot

| NE, USA | Grandparents

(My grandma is pretty cautious about everything. We’ve been shopping at a teen’s clothing store. We call her ‘Nanny’.)

Nanny: “Here, let’s put our bag under the car seats so no will steal them.”

Me: “Who would steal them? Desperate teenage girls?”

Nanny: “Or, hooligans. They may want a gift for their girlfriends!”

Colorful Poetry

| IL, USA | Cousins, Siblings

(I’m on my netbook saying random things.)

Me: *reading aloud a quote* “Name your daughter Orange, so no boy can write poems about her.”

Cousin: “What do you mean?”

Me: “Well, orange doesn’t rhyme with anything.”

(My cousin tries for a few seconds.)

Sister: “That’s the same for purple and silver.”