So, my sons think they are hilarious. Outside of the usual boy stuff – burping, passing gas – they are becoming quite the jokesters.
They get it honestly; just ask anyone who knows my father and/or grandfather. Dad and GG are quite possibly the funniest people I know, famous for one-liners, sarcastic hilarity and just finding the funny in any situation.
It’s a gift for them and for us, really. One can’t take life too seriously.
Even my sons’ teachers have commented on their genuine senses of humor.
I have learned, gradually, not to cringe when I receive a phone call or email from the school. It usually starts with, “I have to tell you what your son said/did … ”
And it ends with a story about my child informing his class that eating yellow snow is a bad idea.
I am glad they have the gift of humor though, because often (not always) when I get snarling, smoke-blowing mad, they make me laugh (lucky for them).
But, lately they have been on a joke-kick. They read jokes on their milk cartons at school and there is a daily joke on the bulletin board of my older son’s math classroom.
It has become a tradition for the boys to come home and immediately tell me a joke.
“Mom, what animal says, ‘Oooo’?”
This one is easy, but I pause for dramatic effect, “A cow with no lips!”
“Mom, what restaurant is owned by bunnies?”
This one should have been glaringly obvious, but I missed it.
“iHop!” he said erupting into giggles and enjoying that I had answered incorrectly.
Once in a while they will tell a joke though, that just doesn’t measure up to the funniness standard I now hold them to.
“Mom, what is orange and sounds like a parrot? A carrot! Get it? Carrot, parrot?”
Or, “What did the monkey do at the zoo? Went bananas!”
Boo. Not funny.
Occasionally, I tell them a joke of my own, “What is black, white and read all over?”
There was an extended period of cricket chirping until I finally gave up and told them: “Really guys? A newspaper! Get it? You read a newspaper? Read, red … no? Not funny?”
Ah, the Internet generation.
Try as they might though, my kids are often funniest when they don’t mean to be.
“Mom, what are you writing about this week?”
“How funny you kids are,” I replied. “You are just little comedians.”
I saw the flicker in my son’s eyes, the moment of thought and confusion.
“We aren’t comedians,” he said. “We are Republicans.”