The company where I work provides four-foot-high cubicles so each employee can have some privacy.

One day a co-worker had an exasperating phone conversation with one of her teenage sons. After hanging up, she heaved a sigh and said, "No one ever listens to me."

Immediately, several voices from surrounding cubicles called out, "Yes, yes we do."

Blood may be thicker than water, but baseball beats them both.

I learned this after explaining to my two boys that they were half-Lithuanian on their father’s side, and half-Yankee, meaning their other set of parents came from an old New England family.

My younger son looked worried. "But we’re still a hundred percent Red Sox, right, Mom?"

A solar-powered computer wristwatch, which is programmed to tell the time and date for 125 years, comes with a guarantee — for two years.

One evening after dinner, my five-year-old son Brian noticed that his mother had gone out. In answer to his questions, I told him, "Mommy is at a Tupperware party."

This explanation satisfied him for only a moment. Puzzled, he asked, "What’s a Tupperware party, Dad?"

I’ve always given my son honest answers, so I figured a simple explanation would be the best approach. "Well, Brian," I said, "at a Tupperware party, a bunch of ladies sit around and sell plastic bowls to each other."

Brian nodded, indicating that he understood. Then he burst into laughter. "Come on, Dad," he said. "What is it really?"