Hippy parents are the best.
I smoke with my dad anytime I visit.
My parents were real hippies, and some of my earliest memories involve them passing a joint around the living room. I had this weird experience when I was older, I was tapping out a metal bowl on a glass ashtray, and the ting ting ting sound triggered memories of my childhood. I totally grew up with that sound.
My mom used to smoke a quarter a day when she was a stay at home mom and we were just kids, but had to quit. My dad sells to me sometimes.