Me (to my Dad): So, if you have any kindling you need chopped, just let me know.
Dad: You want to chop wood?
Me: I like splitting wood.
Husband: ... and hairs ...
__________________________
My Dad: I split all my green poplar at minus 20.
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My 4-year-old niece (pretending to give eggnog to a moose ornament, and singing softly): He knows when you've been drinking, he knows when you're awake ...
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A: Are the stockings hanged?
Me: Stockings are hung, dear. People are hanged.
A: Oh, right.
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J, magnanimously: You can put any pictures of me you want to on Facebook, Mom. That's my Christmas present to you.
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[watching TV with a sick A at the hotel]
A: Walsh College? Is that a college that's only for Walsh people?
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J (after throwing up twice): I'm dying!! Take me to the hospital!
A (after throwing up every 15 minutes for 4 straight hours): Mom, I don't really feel that well.
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J (in reference to the cheap motel we ended up at in Brandon): Mom, this place is pretty much Paradise.
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Grandfather-in-law: So, I don't know if you people have a CD player, but I thought you might be interested in this [hands me a box set of Guy Lombardo LPs].
Me: I will find a turntable, never fear.
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My cousin (late in the evening): Oh my God! You know what they should sell?! Loaves of SANDWICHES.
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Mother-in-law: Well, as they say - "forgive us our Christmases, as we forgive those who Christmas against us."
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