“Daddy,” said my 10-year-old daughter, “I think I want to join the Army.”
“Baby,” I answered, “I think the Air Force would be a better option for you.”
“But I don’t want to be a pilot.”
“You don’t have to be a pilot,” I told her. “There are other jobs in the Air Force.”
Her answer: “I don’t want to be a flight attendant either.”
A husband is having a beer at the pub with his friends when he sends an email to his wife.
“What are you emailing her?” asked one.
He reads his message out loud, “Having a beer with the boys. If I’m not home in twenty minutes, read this email again.”
Eighty-year-old Bessie bursts into the recreation room of the retirement home.
She holds her clenched fist in the air and announces, “Anyone who can guess what’s in my hand, can take me out to dinner tonight!”
A witty, elderly gentleman in the rear shouts out, “An elephant?”
Bessie thinks a minute and replies, “Close enough!”
A first-grader came to the ophthalmology office where I work to have his vision checked. He sat down and I turned off the lights.
Then I switched on a projector that flashed the letters F, Z and B on a screen. I asked the boy what he saw.
Without hesitation he replied, “Consonants.”
Being a teenager and getting a tattoo seem to go hand and hand these days. I wasn’t surprised when one of my daughter’s friends showed me a delicate little Japanese symbol on her hip. “Please don’t tell my parents,” she begged.
“I won’t,” I promised. “You’re 18 now, so I guess it’s your choice. By the way, what does that stand for?”
“Honesty,” she said.
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