Coming home from our Christmas dinner, my whole family piled into my parents' van. Mom and Dad in the front seats. My brother and I in the middle bucket seats, and Amy in the back bench seat. After buckling in, I see Amy's head poking between my brother and me. I see that she's sitting in the middle of the back bench seat, but only on the edge of the seat. She's leaning forward.
Me: Go sit back properly and put your seatbelt on.
Amy: No.
Me: You want to go through the windshield when we crash? That's if you're lucky enough not to go right into the dash, of course.
Amy: Yeah, that'd be fun.
Me: Seriously. For your safety and my sanity, quit breathing near my ear and put your seatbelt on.
Amy: No.
Me: Why not?
Amy (looks at me with a serious face): Because...this is what I've always wanted.
Me: ...to sit on the edge of your seat in the back of the van with no seatbelt?
Amy: Yes.
Me: ...
Sunday, December 26, 2010
She Who Laughs Last...
A joke was told. Everyone was laughing. This included Amy, although I knew she didn't understand the joke, so I called her out on it.
Me: Why are you laughing?
Amy: Because it's a joke. Jokes are funny, don't you know?
Me: Yeah, I know jokes are funny. Can you tell me why that one was funny?
Amy: Because I got the joke.
Me: Nope. And now you're the joke.
Me: Why are you laughing?
Amy: Because it's a joke. Jokes are funny, don't you know?
Me: Yeah, I know jokes are funny. Can you tell me why that one was funny?
Amy: Because I got the joke.
Me: Nope. And now you're the joke.
Cubicles
I was at my family Christmas dinner, and my cousin and brother were talking about their school. I mentioned that my brother was always at the same cubicle doing homework when he wasn't in class. Amy piped up:
Amy: What's a cubicle?
Me: You don't know what a cubicle is? Even after we've basically been describing it?
Amy: Well, I mean, I'm pretty sure I know what it is, but I want to make sure.
Me: All right, you tell me what you think it is, and I'll tell you if you're right.
Amy: Isn't it a place it hang out?
Me: Yep.
My uncle who was listening in joined the conversation. Uncle: No, he's lying, Amy. A cubicle is a venereal disease.
Me: You're going to need to help her out. She doesn't know what that word means.
Uncle: Venereal?
Amy: Yeah, what's that?
Uncle: It's the same thing as a sexually transmitted disease.
Amy: Ohhhh...ok. No, you're lying. I know a cubicle is like a local hangout spot.
Uncle: Ok, fine. You win. Yeah, it's a bar. The "ol' Cubicle Pub downtown".
Amy: Oh?! It's a bar?! Maybe I'll go to The Cubicle for my 18th birthday!
Amy: What's a cubicle?
Me: You don't know what a cubicle is? Even after we've basically been describing it?
Amy: Well, I mean, I'm pretty sure I know what it is, but I want to make sure.
Me: All right, you tell me what you think it is, and I'll tell you if you're right.
Amy: Isn't it a place it hang out?
Me: Yep.
My uncle who was listening in joined the conversation. Uncle: No, he's lying, Amy. A cubicle is a venereal disease.
Me: You're going to need to help her out. She doesn't know what that word means.
Uncle: Venereal?
Amy: Yeah, what's that?
Uncle: It's the same thing as a sexually transmitted disease.
Amy: Ohhhh...ok. No, you're lying. I know a cubicle is like a local hangout spot.
Uncle: Ok, fine. You win. Yeah, it's a bar. The "ol' Cubicle Pub downtown".
Amy: Oh?! It's a bar?! Maybe I'll go to The Cubicle for my 18th birthday!
Saturday, December 25, 2010
The Streets Just Got Less Safe
They gave her her beginner's drivers license. She struggled to pass her written test, however. It took her three tries. And she'd been studying hard for it. Of course, for Amy, any studying is considered "studying hard" unless she's studying Justin Bieber lyrics or inane text messages from nigh-on-equally dense friends. After failing the written test twice, she finally got her beginner's license.
Due to some mild congenital palsy in her right hand, she has some restrictions (she isn't allowed to drive manual transmission, for example), and they suggested a brodie knob that attaches to the steering wheel to aid in steering. To this Amy responded: "I'm not using that! I'll look like a loser!"
The real kicker is that Amy doesn't really card about driving because "boys are supposed to drive me places". She simply wants a photo ID so she can get into the clubs since her 18th birthday is coming up. She's upset that because she postponed getting her license so long that the photo ID won't arrive for 4 weeks and she's stuck with a temporary license until then. Her birthday is in 2 weeks. She's been hounding me to help her figure out a way to get into clubs for her birthday. "What if I show them this temporary license and my high school ID picture. They both have my name on it. The student ID has my picture, and the license has my birthday. That should work, right? Right?!"
I just laughed and walked away.
Due to some mild congenital palsy in her right hand, she has some restrictions (she isn't allowed to drive manual transmission, for example), and they suggested a brodie knob that attaches to the steering wheel to aid in steering. To this Amy responded: "I'm not using that! I'll look like a loser!"
The real kicker is that Amy doesn't really card about driving because "boys are supposed to drive me places". She simply wants a photo ID so she can get into the clubs since her 18th birthday is coming up. She's upset that because she postponed getting her license so long that the photo ID won't arrive for 4 weeks and she's stuck with a temporary license until then. Her birthday is in 2 weeks. She's been hounding me to help her figure out a way to get into clubs for her birthday. "What if I show them this temporary license and my high school ID picture. They both have my name on it. The student ID has my picture, and the license has my birthday. That should work, right? Right?!"
I just laughed and walked away.
Irritable Sister Syndrome
The topic was surgery; the anatomy, the bowel.
Amy: haha, "bowel".
Me: Do you even know what the bowel is?
Amy: Yeah.
Dad: I don't think she can even spell it, let alone tell you what it is.
Amy: I can spell it. B-O-W-L.
Me: Alright. So how do you spell "bowl" then?
Amy: B-O-...L.
Me: Right. I thought so.
Amy: haha, "bowel".
Me: Do you even know what the bowel is?
Amy: Yeah.
Dad: I don't think she can even spell it, let alone tell you what it is.
Amy: I can spell it. B-O-W-L.
Me: Alright. So how do you spell "bowl" then?
Amy: B-O-...L.
Me: Right. I thought so.
Christmas Graittude
My family just finished opening our Christmas gifts. There wasn't a whole lot this year, but due to circumstances, that was expected. Amy has a history of being horribly ungrateful. A couple weeks before Christmas I caught my dad preemptively scolding her for not being thankful for what she does have and what she will get. I thought this might work. It didn't.
Right off the bat, let me state that Amy always gets the most presents. This year was no exception. My parents spend more money on her gifts. It may be because she is the youngest or a girl, I don't know. I'm not complaining about the unfairness, however; it's her complete lack of gratitude--especially when she receives more than others--that gets to me.
Gift #1: Wallet (and it wasn't a dollar-store wallet, either. It was of good quality)
Amy's Reaction (whiny and matter-of-fact): "Oh....A wallet. It's horrible." She tosses it aside. After my dad gets upset at her reaction, she takes a second look at it and says, "well...I can't use it. My friends will see it, and it's not a teenager wallet."
My dad responds with: "Amy, you'll be 18 in 2 weeks. An adult. Try acting like one."
Amy (under her breath): "18 is still a teenager" and she tosses the wallet aside again.
Gift#2: Some make-up (I didn't really get a close look at what kind because I didn't really care)
Amy's Reaction (sarcastically): "Thanks..." and she tosses it over her shoulder.
Gift #3: A new bathrobe
Amy's Reaction: *puts it on* "This is ok".
Gift #4: A pair of Red Canada Mitts
Amy's Reaction: "Mitts?" She eventually put them on and had to go to a mirror to see how they looked on her. I thought that since they were mitts, looking down at your hands would suffice, but then I saw her posing and making duckfaces in the mirror. And she wasn't doing so to be funny--that's what she does all the time.
Gift #5: A special gift card for a whole bunch of tanning minutes
Amy's Reaction: "Oh. Finally something I want and can use. Mom, take me tanning later."
In constrast, here's what I received:
Gift #1: A pack of boxers/socks and a shirt
My Reaction: "Sweet! Boxers and socks! And a new shirt! Thanks!"
Right off the bat, let me state that Amy always gets the most presents. This year was no exception. My parents spend more money on her gifts. It may be because she is the youngest or a girl, I don't know. I'm not complaining about the unfairness, however; it's her complete lack of gratitude--especially when she receives more than others--that gets to me.
Gift #1: Wallet (and it wasn't a dollar-store wallet, either. It was of good quality)
Amy's Reaction (whiny and matter-of-fact): "Oh....A wallet. It's horrible." She tosses it aside. After my dad gets upset at her reaction, she takes a second look at it and says, "well...I can't use it. My friends will see it, and it's not a teenager wallet."
My dad responds with: "Amy, you'll be 18 in 2 weeks. An adult. Try acting like one."
Amy (under her breath): "18 is still a teenager" and she tosses the wallet aside again.
Gift#2: Some make-up (I didn't really get a close look at what kind because I didn't really care)
Amy's Reaction (sarcastically): "Thanks..." and she tosses it over her shoulder.
Gift #3: A new bathrobe
Amy's Reaction: *puts it on* "This is ok".
Gift #4: A pair of Red Canada Mitts
Amy's Reaction: "Mitts?" She eventually put them on and had to go to a mirror to see how they looked on her. I thought that since they were mitts, looking down at your hands would suffice, but then I saw her posing and making duckfaces in the mirror. And she wasn't doing so to be funny--that's what she does all the time.
Gift #5: A special gift card for a whole bunch of tanning minutes
Amy's Reaction: "Oh. Finally something I want and can use. Mom, take me tanning later."
In constrast, here's what I received:
Gift #1: A pack of boxers/socks and a shirt
My Reaction: "Sweet! Boxers and socks! And a new shirt! Thanks!"
Africa
My future profession involves working in a hospital, so to enter the program at college, I had to go get a whole bunch of vaccines and tests done. I was discussing the regiment I had to go through to my parents when Amy overheard and came into the room.
Amy: Why do you have to get so many medicines?
Me (jokingly): So I don't get sick when I go work in Africa.
Amy: You're going to Africa?
Me: Uhhhh, yeah.
Amy: What?! Really?!
Me (lying through my teeth): Yeah, that's where I'm doing my clinical placement. How do you not know this?
Amy (turns to my dad, who is also in the room): Is that true?
Dad (playing along): Yeah. Seriously, Amy, do you never clean your ears? Or do you just never pay attention?
Amy: Well, I didn't know!
Me: Did you not notice when I was gone for 2 weeks last month?
Amy: You were gone?
Me: Yeah, I went to Africa for an introduction to clinical work.
Amy: Did you really?
Me (now I'm feeling bad, so I'm trying to sound a bit sarcastic, but she doesn't pick up on it): Oh, yeah. It was great!
Amy: So....so, you were with dirty poor people?
Me: Sure, a lot of them weren't as well off as we are.
Amy: Gross. How can you even do that? You'd better not have brought diseases back!
Me: I only brought two diseases back, but I scrubbed them off of me using your bedsheets.
Amy: What?! No, you didn't!
Me: Obviously not. Why would I even want to be near your bed? I'd probably get bedbugs.
Amy: I don't have bedbugs? Do I, Mom?
Mom: *shrugs* meh.
Amy: Ok, Mom! I know you're joking! (she turns to me) So how can you even do that? Help dirty poor people?
Me: Because they need help.
Amy: But they're dirty and poor.
Me: So they can definitely use the help, don't you agree?
Amy: I guess, but I ain't going near no dirty people!
Amy: Why do you have to get so many medicines?
Me (jokingly): So I don't get sick when I go work in Africa.
Amy: You're going to Africa?
Me: Uhhhh, yeah.
Amy: What?! Really?!
Me (lying through my teeth): Yeah, that's where I'm doing my clinical placement. How do you not know this?
Amy (turns to my dad, who is also in the room): Is that true?
Dad (playing along): Yeah. Seriously, Amy, do you never clean your ears? Or do you just never pay attention?
Amy: Well, I didn't know!
Me: Did you not notice when I was gone for 2 weeks last month?
Amy: You were gone?
Me: Yeah, I went to Africa for an introduction to clinical work.
Amy: Did you really?
Me (now I'm feeling bad, so I'm trying to sound a bit sarcastic, but she doesn't pick up on it): Oh, yeah. It was great!
Amy: So....so, you were with dirty poor people?
Me: Sure, a lot of them weren't as well off as we are.
Amy: Gross. How can you even do that? You'd better not have brought diseases back!
Me: I only brought two diseases back, but I scrubbed them off of me using your bedsheets.
Amy: What?! No, you didn't!
Me: Obviously not. Why would I even want to be near your bed? I'd probably get bedbugs.
Amy: I don't have bedbugs? Do I, Mom?
Mom: *shrugs* meh.
Amy: Ok, Mom! I know you're joking! (she turns to me) So how can you even do that? Help dirty poor people?
Me: Because they need help.
Amy: But they're dirty and poor.
Me: So they can definitely use the help, don't you agree?
Amy: I guess, but I ain't going near no dirty people!
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