Bad puns run in my family. Some of us are more especially afflicted. #4 and I used to be pretty bad, but now we just keep our mouths shut (most of the time). #5 and #6 join my dad in bad pun sessions and slip a zinger into conversations now and then.
A propensity to car sickness is also a part of my genetic make-up, but not shared by any family members. Sunday, the whole clan carpooled to a family party and my lunch ended up neatly deposited in a waste basket my mom keeps in her car.
Everyone was fairly tolerant, but when our family light drive came around, #3 mentioned that she wanted recognition for getting into a car with me so soon after an episode. I apologized again, and, without missing a beat, #5 exclaimed, “You didn’t need to bring it up.”