Why I married him
Sitting at the table, eating dinner after a somewhat trying day (which I shall not go too deeply into, but hello, conjunctivitis), the kids began telling jokes. When Chris and I got married, one of the vows we took was to laugh at each other’s jokes, and damned if we don’t still do that every day. The girls took no such vow and do not always suffer our sense of humor gladly, but their own senses of humor seem to be developing nicely.
Lately Stella has been repeating some hoary old zingers (which, to be fair, are brand-new to her) — along the lines of “What’s black and white and red all over?” and “Waiter, what’s this fly doing in my soup?” As she chowed down on leftover pizza and kale chips, Stella had a stroke of genius — she decided that Chris should tell a joke, too, but with a challenge.
“Not just any joke! You have to tell a joke about a certain thing!”
“What thing?” Chris asked.
“Um…” She paused for a moment. “A joke about this table!”
“Okay,” Chris said. “This table is so flat…”
We waited a few seconds.
“…is so flat, Steve Forbes wants to tax it!”
The girls sat stony-faced. Chris smiled triumphantly, and I spat out my salad.
