0 Flares Twitter 0 Facebook 0 Google+ 0 0 Flares ×

“Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Your daughter.”

“Your daughter who?”

“Your daughter who knows more jokes than you do.”

Of course your five-year-old knows more jokes than you. How could she not?

You’ve told her every single joke you know, a dozen times over. And be honest: You don’t know as many jokes as you used to. You spend all week with a couple of two-and-a-half-year-olds. They know comedy — intimately — but they don’t care for jokes.

Your weekend lifestyle is no better source for jokes. You hang out with other stay-home dads and what you mostly end up talking about is your kids. That is, when you’re not gossiping with a mix of shock and envy about the decadent lifestyles of your friends who are childless and divorced.

You’re trying to come up with a good knock-knock joke about Evelyn Waugh when she zings you again:

“What kind of tree can you hold in your hand, Dad?”

“You mean like a seedling — for planting?”

“A PALM TREE!”

It’s not just that she knows more jokes, she writes her own.

And they’re fresh, easy and natural — the way jokes should be. Perhaps they’re not air-tight, the punchline cleanly subverting expectations created in the setup, but to their intended audience of kindergarten classmates, they are devastatingly funny.

“Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Orange.”

“Orange who?”

“Orange you glad I didn’t say poo-poo in the bum-bum?”

Emmet Matheson is a stay-home dad to 3 kids. He gets called more horrible names before 9 a.m. than most people do all week.

0 Flares Twitter 0 Facebook 0 Google+ 0 0 Flares ×