The Art of the Joke

I have twin nieces. They turned five this past week, so I ventured out into the 100+ degree heat to attend their birthday party. It promised to be the social event of the season and I didn't want to miss it. So, I loaded up the presents and off I went.

The day of the party was another scorcher. Throughout the late morning and into the afternoon, the nieces and their 2 year-old brother staged skillful attempts to capture and destroy the wrapped presents. With great coordination, the seven adults protected the hill, distracting the would-be attackers with toys, books, songs and finally resorting to lunch.

After lunch, all bets were off and the paper flew. The girls demonstrated remarkable manners when present after present yielded school clothes. With each gift, they smiled, held up the box or bag, and exclaimed excitedly, "Clothes!" Before the resounding "ooh" faded, they had tossed the box or bag aside and moved on to the next gift, hoping upon hope for a toy. Their prayers were answered when they finally unearthed two Disney Princesses and a Disney Princess carriage. After holding up their long-sought after prizes so everyone could see, they turned the dolls over for extraction. Happy Birthday to us. There's a special place in hell for the people who design packaging for toys.

After cake and ice cream, the party wound to a close. My nephew settled in for his afternoon nap and the grandparents returned to their homes so they could do the same.

Later that evening, we headed out for dinner. As we finished our meals, my niece turned to me and said, "Knock knock." On cue, I said, "Who's there?" "Pizza," she said. "Pizza who?" I responded. "Knock Knock," was her reply. A little confused, I said, "Who's there?" "Hamburger," she said. "Hamburger who?" I asked. "Hamburger you glad I didn't say pizza!" she said, triumphantly, smiling and waiting for the ensuing laughter. I stared at her, then smiled.

Encouraged, she said, "Knock knock." Sure we were headed toward a coherent punchline, I said, "Who's there?" "Balloon," she said. My hope for a coherent punchline faded as I said, "Balloon who?" "Knock knock," came her reply. At this point I knew I'd been suckered again. "Who's there?" I asked. "French fry," she said, barely containing her excitement. "French fry who?" I asked, knowing what was coming next. "French fry you glad I didn't say balloon?" She beamed.

I decided to take matters into my own hands. "Knock knock," I said. "Who's there?" she responded. "Banana," I said. "Banana who?" she asked. "Knock knock," I said. "Who's there?" she asked. "Orange," I said. "Orange who?" she asked. "Orange you glad I didn't say banana?" I said, with some flourish to signify proper delivery of the punchline. She giggled and I was sure we'd hit upon true understanding. To reinforce the point, I said, "See, that's the joke. Orange you glad I didn't say banana?" She laughed and nodded.

Just to be sure, I turned to her and said, "Knock knock." Still giggling, she said, "Who's there?" "Rude interrupting cow," I said. "Rude interrupt..." before she could finish, I said, "Moo!" She looked at me and said, "Rude interrupting cow who?" I had no response.

On the way home, she turned to me and said, "Knock knock." "Who's there?" I asked. "Rude interrupting cow," she said. "Rude interrtupting cow who?" I asked, knowing where this was going as soon as I finished the question. "Knock knock" was her reply. I sighed and decided that the art of the joke would have to wait for another day. "Who's there?" I asked. "Horse!" she exclaimed. "Horse who?" I asked. "Horse you glad I didn't say rude interrupting cow?" and she collapsed into a fit of giggles.

And that's all that matters. We can all hope for such enthusiastic responses to our jokes.