I can never tell if my mom is serious or joking. She tells jokes more often than any other person I know, but I cannot distinguish it from her being serious — for all I know, she might be telling jokes one hundred percent of the time. Thus, I just assume everything is a joke. Here is an example of a conversation I had with her. (For the sake of not using real names, I will replace my brother’s name with DumDum. In actuality, his name is Justin. On second thought, I do not care about hiding his name, but I will still call him DumDum. Having been around him for my entire life, it seems appropriate.)
Mom: (to me (Cameron)) Hey, DumDum.
Cameron: Mom, I’m Cameron. DumDum is the older, shorter, dumber version of me, AKA my monkey brother.
Mom: Oh, shit, my bad. It gets confusing. I guess I just had too many kids.
(Cameron and his mom stare at each other as they both realize he is the third and final child)
Mom: Oh… Uh… Three too many!
Maybe she thought having me believe she hated all three of her children equally was better than allowing me to realize I am her least favorite. Or maybe it was all a joke. I still have no clue.