Sometimes my job as a mother to five kids, one grown man and a bunch of animals is not funny, or even remotely amusing.
I do not break out into hysterical laughter as I am scraping petrified oatmeal off my kitchen table with a butter knife, nor do I find myself smiling as I pull out a Lego that, as a result of thirst and a pitch-black hallway, has become embedded in the bottom of my foot.
I cannot appreciate the irony in a chewed-up vacuum filter that will cost me seventeen dollars to replace, and I don’t understand the satire behind the snotty hairball the cat has thrown up on my bed.
However, I do embrace a decent joke, especially if the punch line makes sense. My kids, with the occasional ulterior motive of an un-grounding, try to provide comic relief with jokes they’ve made up, and I try to laugh at them, even the ones I don’t get.
Most of their one-liners relate to people in their own age group that have the same mindset, and it made me realize that humor is a truly personal thing.
For example, “Why did Tigger stick his head in the toilet?”
“Because he was looking for Pooh.”
This not only gives new meaning to the term ‘toilet-humor’, but it kills in a room full of seven-year-olds, as well.
My ten-year old loves to tell this one to anyone who will listen:
“A duck walks into a service station, and stands in front of the counter, waiting. The crabby old geezer behind the register finally looks up from his newspaper, and says, “What?” The duck asks, “Got any grapes?” The old guy, irritated, grunts, “NO. This is a service station. Why in the heck would I have grapes? Get out of here!”
The duck leaves, and comes back about an hour later. He stands at the counter until the same old grouch notices. “WHAT?” the guy yells.
“Got any grapes?” the duck innocently asks.
“I told you once, you dumb bird, this is a SERVICE STATION! Of course I don’t have any grapes! Now get out and stay out! If you come in here asking for grapes again, I’m gonna nail your beak to the floor!” The duck leaves again, waits an hour, and waddles back in. He stands there, waiting. The old man hollers, “WHAT??”
The duck asks, “Got any nails?”
The old guy, confused, says, “Well…no.”
“Okay. Got any grapes?”
I have come to realize although there are jokes that involve all ethnicities, races, denominations and professions, I have yet to hear any that cover motherhood.
So I made some up:
“Knock, Knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“Mom. MOM! MOOOOM!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THERE? CAN I COME IN?”
Or:
“Why did the mother eat an entire chocolate cake for breakfast?”
A: Because dad said it was okay.
Or:
“Why did the mother cross the road?”
A: To catch her naked, screaming toddler who was chasing the chicken.
And:
“Did you hear the one about the mom who had breast-augmentation surgery? She decided the only tube socks filled with sand she wanted to see were the ones in the laundry basket.”
Lastly, my personal favorite:
Q: The Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, a nice mom and Santa Clause went skydiving. They all jumped out of the plane at the same time. Who landed on the ground first?
A: Duh, everybody knows there’s no such thing as a nice mom!
Although they laughed politely when I told my jokes, I could tell that my kids didn’t really get them. I’ll give them about twenty years and 2,190 diaper changes to catch up.