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?”


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 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 ×