FRRRRRRRee! Tree. Tri. Dri. Di. Fri. Day.
You know how people always say, “Sorry to beat a dead horse.” That old phrase, ya know? Where did that come from? It’s so dark! And awful. How does one just throw that visual out there all casually in conversation? And why a horse? Who came up with horse? Why stop at horse?
Why not a pony? “Sorry to beat a dead pony, you guys.”
I don’t see how it’s any more gruesome than a horse.
“Sorry to beat a dead Shetland pony, you guys.”
It’s practically the same thing.
“Sorry to beat a creamy white, hazel-eyed dead Scottish Shetland pony, you guys.”
“Sorry to beat a creamy white, hazel-eyed blue ribbon State Fair winner named Princess, dead Scottish Shetland pony, you guys.”
“Sorry to beat a creamy white, hazel-eye blue ribbon State Fair winner with one of those hand-knitted sweaters that goes all the way down their front legs and you want to cry it’s so cute named Princess, dead Scottish Shetland pony, you guys.”
OH SO THAT’S TOO FAR?
We’ve noooow entered the “knock knock who’s there” phase of parenthood, and let me tell you something with deep sadness and regret: my kids DO NOT GET IT.
We’ve tried everything. Different version of puns. The interrupting cow. The classics. And this is what Will keeps coming up with:
“Knock knock!” – all wide-eyed and brimming with excitement.
Us, fearing the tragedy ahead, “Um okay, who’s there.”
Him, “A cow that has to pee really bad out of his ears!”
Us, wondering if it’s too late to remove his name from the will, “A cow that has to pee really bad out of his ears WHO.”
Him, and I’m serious, every time, ever single time, “Eh!” – with a twist of his head, one hand in the air as if to say, “I dunno!” and giggles galore between him and his conspiring SLASH CLUELESS sister.
What do we do, you guys?! How do we fix this developmental shortcoming?! What will I tell my parents?! HOW CAN I LOOK MYSELF IN THE MIRROR.
Clearly this is when I need you most. If you have any knock-knock jokes that were breakthroughs for your children, please lend a helping hand. They cannot go through life as a child not understanding the basic fundamentals of humor.
PRISON WOULD BE BETTER THAN THIS.
I will say, on that note, that Will did make an incredible joke the other day, and I need to share it with the world.
It floored me.
Like, he’s back in the will.
I was asking Nat before school how she wanted her hair; down, in a braid, in two braids, in a pony (the creamy white, hazel-eyed blue ribbon state fair winner with one of those hand-knitted sweaters that go all the way down their front legs and you want to cry it’s so cute, named Princess Scottish Shetland pony. that one.), or a messy bun. (not that it matters, by the end of hour one it ends up looking like a squirrel died on her head.) And she chirped, “Braid! Today I want a braid.”
And Will, without a beat, to the tune of the Wizard of Oz classic, (AND IN PERFECT TUNE) sings, “If I onlyyyyy had a braiiiiiiid.”
THIS IS WHY I HAD CHILDREN. TO RAISE THEM TO MAKE PUNS WHILST SINGING CLASSIC MUSICAL HITS. AND HE DID IT #$%ING PERFECTLY.
For June, WOULD YOU RATHER HAVE:
- A piano mixtape. Like pretty piano songs. A little bit classic, a little bit French, a little ethereal, you know.
- ’90s hip hop. Probably a LOT of familiar tunes, but still fun to listen to all collected together. There’d be cursing in it, so don’t get mad at me.
- Another ’80s mixtape. I already have one, but there’s obviously always room for more ’80s music in our ears’ lives.
- And lastly, a Clunk mixtape. Which will mean something to only a tiny select few. Clunk Music Hall was an indie music hall (duh) that I frequented weekly, if not more, back in my 20s. So it would be indie music that I either saw there, discovered there, or listened to with friends in the parking lot with my short and wild bleached blonde ‘do. . .there.
So cast your vote and I’m AWN it like APHIDS ON A HONEYSUCKLE VINE, yo.
We’re shooting Season 3 of my Food Network show, Mom Wins! It all starts today, so I need to get one last run and 75 thousand sit-ups and push-ups in before they arrive. I’ll be posting in Stories when I can, so you can follow along IFYAWN’T.
Yes that’s a fake plant. I brought it outside last second from our basement to add more lush for the shoot. TRICKERY.
I already can’t wait for your knock-knock jokes and mixtape votes.