Me: [trying to figure out summer travel plans] okay, so, we can all fly out to Amsterdam, and then from there you'll go to Sweden, and I'll either go to Sweden, or Greece.
Sotiri (my 13 year old brother): Will you have magic brownies?
Me: What? Maybe, since it's legal there.
Mom: Yes, Sotiri, we will leave you and Krock [6 year old autistic brother] in the hotel, and your sister and I are going to go smoke out. Yeaaah! [making crazy faces]
Sotiri: What? I want to come!
Mom: [imitating Sotiri] Yeah, uhm, Amsterdam police, I'm taking care of my 6 year old brother... My mom and big sister are high. They're just coming off a bad buzz. [pause] I wonder what Amsterdam prisons are like? [making phone gesture] Um, yes, hi honey... Yes, I don't know where the boys are. Your daughter and I are in a women's holding facility.. Yes, they sent us to rehab.
.....
Mom: You know the Native Americans used to put the drug on a fire, and put a blanket over themselves to inhale the smoke second hand.
Me: Yes, hotboxing.
Mom: Is that what you kids are doing now adays?
Me: I don't do that!
Mom: Yes, peace pipes and hotboxing, connecting with the American roots.
Sotiri: Smell that? That's the smell of freedom.
Me: No, I just farted, sorry.
As an aside, my father brought my little brother a tee shirt from Holland with a large pot leaf on it. He thought it was the national tree of Holland, and was not aware of the drug association, because my father is generally clueless about these things. I would like to mention that my parents are not drug users, and never have been, which is what makes these series of conversations hilarious.
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