Monday, May 26, 2008
Move Over Jim Gaffigan, Here Comes Wyatt
I can't remember the day that it all started, the day when his joke-telling began. Just like any other personality trait that becomes part of a person over time, I cannot remember a day having gone by when he wasn't telling jokes.
It seems he was born telling jokes.
Is that possible?
A baby pops (yeah, right, like that's how it happens!) from his mother's womb with a stool and a bottle of water ready to make the crowd laugh . . . but wait! Those bright lights aren't stage lights at all, guess I'll have to wait until I can actually speak before I begin telling all of my funnies.
This, I am sure of it, is what went on in the mind of Wyatt when he was just a few minutes old. This, and of course, "where's the beef?" Better yet, "where are the hot dogs?"
Anyway, today was no different than yesterday in the land of raising children, only the jokes were different.
Wyatt: Mom, what do you call a librarian with a boyfriend?
Mom: Um, I don't know, what?
Wyatt: Yeah, booked, get it?
I decide that now is not the time to point out the fact that booked sounds a lot like hooked, which is a word that my 3rd grader should not even know exists. I hope.
And then I remember a time long ago, a time when I was the older sister and my little brother would run around telling jokes . His favorite was this one:
Brother: Knock, knock!
Sister: Who's there?
Sister: Nobody who?
Brother: Nobody rainbow!
And then he'd fall on the ground clutching his belly, trying to keep his glasses from falling off his little face, laughing like a hyena.
And I would stand there, perfecting the eyeroll that I have now become so very good at.
And the cycle continues . . .
Posted by carrie