Said by an elderly Norwegian aunt, about giving gifts to children:

"Oh, Warren."

“A little hand is easy to fill.”

Said by another aunt:

“Don’t you dare walk on that floor, I just cleaned it!”

Said by my father:

Dad grew up in the country, and their homestead was the Saturday night gathering place for neighbors who would bring food, hooch, and instruments for parties. Dad often repeated this comment. Along about midnight, one lanky fellow would rouse himself from a chair in the corner, slap his knee, and declare

“If we’re going to stay up all night we better get at it.”

–When confronted with a challenging task:

“That’s no hill for a stepper.”

–Said every. single. Sunday. morning. while pacing the kitchen, waiting on his wife and two daughters who took their sweet time getting ready for church:

“You can’t leave late and get there early.”

This observation has transferred itself to our generation, and my husband and I repeat that one to each other with varying degrees of anxiety or accusation in our voices.

Said by my mother:

I heard it a thousand times, usually delivered on a long, aggrieved sigh to my dad:

“Oh, Warren.”