Family Jokes

Dad is from the old school, where you keep your money under the mattress—only he kept his in the underwear drawer. One day I bought my dad an unusual personal safe—a can of spray paint with a false bottom—so he could keep his money in the workshop. Later I asked Mom if he was using it.

"Oh, yes," she replied, "he put his money in it the same day."

"No burglar would think to look on the work shelf!" I gloated.

"They won't have to," my mom replied. "He keeps the paint can in his underwear drawer."

 

 

One evening after dinner, my five-year-old son Brian noticed that his mother had gone out. In answer to his questions, I told him, "Mommy is at a Tupperware party."

This explanation satisfied him for only a moment. Puzzled, he asked, "What's a Tupperware party, Dad?"

I've always given my son honest answers, so I figured a simple explanation would be the best approach. "Well, Brian," I said, "at a Tupperware party, a bunch of ladies sit around and sell plastic bowls to each other."

Brian nodded, indicating that he understood. Then he burst into laughter. "Come on, Dad," he said. "What is it really?"

As she slid behind the wheel for her first driving lesson, my daughter couldn't contain her excitement. "You need to make adjustments so the car is comfortable for you, the driver," I began. "Now, what's the first thing you should do?"

"Change the radio station," she said.

My doctor friend moved his family to a small town in Montana. An Italian American raised in Philadelphia, he wanted his kids to enjoy clean the benefits of air and the outdoors. The locals were thrilled to have a doctor of their own, and were always inviting him and his family over for dinner.

During one visit, one of his daughters told a rancher's daughter, "We're Italian."

Somewhat confused, the little girl replied, "We're Ranch."

Don't ever pay a surprise visit to a child in college. You might be the one getting the surprise. I learned this the hard way when I swung by my son's campus during a business trip. Locating what I thought was his fraternity house, I rang the doorbell. "Yeah?" a voice called from inside.

"Does Dylan Houseman live here?"

"Yup," the voice answered. "Leave him on the front porch. We'll drag him in later."

 

 

Since I am a busy mom of four, I rely on my children to help me out with everyday chores around the house. One morning I was running around trying to get the children and myself ready, when I suddenly realized it was trash pickup day. So I handed a bag of garbage to my sleepy seven-year-old son and told him to toss it in the trash bin on his way out the door.

Glancing out my window moments later, I saw him wearily boarding the bus. He was carrying his backpack, his lunchbox and a big white bag of garbage.

Driving with my two young boys to a funeral, I tried to prepare them by talking about burial and what we believe happens after death. The boys behaved well during the service. But at the grave site I discovered my explanations weren't as thorough as I'd thought.

In a loud voice, my four-year-old asked, "Mom, what's in the box?"

My two-year-old cousin scared us one summer by disappearing during our lakeside vacation. More than a dozen relatives searched the forest and shoreline, and everyone was relieved when we found Matthew playing calmly in the woods.

"Listen to me, Matthew," his mother said sharply. "From now on when you want to go someplace, you tell Mommy first, okay?"

Matthew thought about that for a moment and said, "Okay. Disney World."

One night about 10 p.m., I answered the phone and heard, "Dad, we want to stay out late. Is that okay?"

"Sure," I answered, "as long as you called."

When I hung up, my wife asked who was on the phone.

"One of the boys," I replied. "I gave them permission to stay out late."

"Not our boys," she said. "They're both downstairs in the basement."

My sister felt she was well prepared for her in-depth interview with several members of the police-academy board who would determine her suitability as a candidate. The first situation they presented to her was: "On routine patrol you see a car traveling at excessive speed, with undue care and attention. You pull it over and discover that the driver is your brother. What do you do?"

Without hesitation she replied, "Tell Mom!"

She was accepted.

 

 

It had been a nerve-racking experience for my attorney husband. He was working with the FBI on a federal sting operation. Worried for his safety, they put him under protective surveillance. Finally the agency told him they had rounded up all the criminals and were lifting the surveillance.

A few days later my relieved spouse was on the phone, telling his brother about the whole adventure. "Did you happen to mention to the FBI that you have an identical twin?" his horrified brother interrupted. "Who lives next door?"

This couple was heading to the hospital with their 16-year-old daughter, who was scheduled to undergo a tonsillectomy. During the ride they talked about the procedure.

"Dad," the teenager asked, "how are they going to keep my mouth open during surgery?"

Without hesitation her father quipped, "They're going to give you a phone."

Several months ago, my daughter and I had similar virus symptoms. She decided to consult a doctor so as not to lose any more time from her job.

“I’ll see the doctor,” she said, “and then tell you what’s wrong with us.”

The next day she called to say, “Guess what, Mom. We’re pregnant!”

Mother and I were discussing our mutual weight problem one evening, when I challenged her to a contest. If I lost the most weight in the next month, I wouldn't have to pay her the $6 that I owed her. If she lost the most weight, I would have to pay up. Anything for an incentive! "All right," said Mother happily. "But let's wait two weeks before we start. There are some things I have to eat first."

My husband bought an exercise machine to help him shed a few pounds. He set it up in the basement but didn't use it much, so he moved it to the bedroom. It gathered dust there, too, so he put it in the living room. Weeks later I asked how it was going. "I was right," he said. "I do get more exercise now. Every time I close the drapes, I have to walk around the machine."

One evening I was commenting on my bad exercise habits and tight clothes. Whenever I criticize myself, my four-year-old son always has something charming to say.

Using a new word this time, he smiled and said, "Oh, no, Mommy! You look flabulous!"

 

 

One rainy morning, my mother went for her daily run. As she returned to the house, she slipped and fell, hitting her head on the driveway. I called the paramedics. When they arrived, they asked my mom some questions to determine her coherency. "What is today?" inquired one man. Without hesitation, Mom replied, "Trash day."

After my wife had a sonogram, I asked my mother-in-law to guess the sex of the twins her daughter was carrying.

"Two boys," she said.

I shook my head.

"It must be two girls," she offered.

Again I told her no.

"Well, then," she asked, "what are they?"

I spent an afternoon helping my boyfriend move into a new home. In one carton I found a crockpot, with an odd-looking and very dirty metal lid. Later I ushered my boyfriend into the kitchen and asked why he hadn't mentioned this perfectly good pot. He stared at it, then replied, "Well, after I broke the lid I never thought of replacing it with a hubcap."    

My wife and her friend Karen were talking about their labor-saving devices as they pulled into our driveway. Karen said, "I love my new garage-door opener." "I love mine too," my wife replied, and honked the horn three times. That was the signal for me to come out and open the garage.

My sister decided to go on a diet, and that first evening she phoned me. I could tell her mouth was full, so I asked her what she was eating. "A cupcake," she mumbled. "I just got on the scale, and it read 149 1/2 pounds. I decided that was no place to start a diet, so I'm rounding it off to 150."

My sister and I were out on the town one night when we ran into a man I knew. "You're sisters?" he asked incredulously. "You look nothing alike.

Pointing to her nose and my chin, my sister said, "Different plastic surgeons."

My mom had always wanted to learn to play the piano, so Dad bought her one for her birthday. A few weeks later, I called and asked how she was doing. "We returned the piano," said Dad. "I persuaded her to switch to a clarinet."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because," he explained, "with a clarinet, she can't sing along."

Recently visiting my hometown, I ran into Bev, a classmate I had not seen in years. We updated each other on careers, marriages, children, and found common ground discussing the joys and hardships of being the single parent of a teenager.

She admitted the decisions she made and advice she gave as a mother were based on hope and instinct rather than any certainty of what was best. I agreed, but said our parents probably felt the same way—and we hadn't turned out too badly.

"Yeah," she replied. "But we had real parents. Our kids just have us."

I understood exactly what she meant.
—Contributed by John R. Griffin

It seemed that all our appliances had broken in the same week, and repairs were straining our budget. So when I picked up the kids from school and our Jeep started making rattling sounds, I decided that rather than burden my husband, I'd deal with it. I hadn't reckoned on my little tattletales, however. They rushed into the house with the news: "Daddy, the Jeep was breaking down, but Mom made the noise stop!"

Impressed, my husband asked, "How did you fix it?"

"I turned up the volume on the radio," I confessed.

We purchased an old home in northern New York State from two elderly sisters. Winter was fast approaching, and I was concerned about the house's lack of insulation. "If they could live here all those years, so can we!" my husband confidently declared. One November night the temperature plunged to below zero, and we woke up to find interior walls covered with frost. My husband called the sisters to ask how they had kept the house warm. After a brief conversation, he hung up. "For the past 30 years," he muttered, "they've gone to Florida for the winter."

My mother was away all weekend at a business conference. During a break, she decided to call home collect. My six-year-old brother picked up the phone and heard a stranger's voice say, "We have a Marcia on the line. Will you accept the charges?"

Frantic, he dropped the receiver and came charging outside screaming, "Dad! They've got Mom! And they want money!"

While I was dining out with my children, a man came over to our table and we started talking. He asked where my kids go to school. I told him we home-school them. With a raised eyebrow he asked if my husband is the sole breadwinner for our family. I said no, I also work—out of our home. Then, noticing our two-month-old son, he mentioned that his daughter had just had a baby, and he wondered what hospital our son was born in.

"He was born at home," I answered.

The man looked at me, then said, "Wow, you don't get out much, do you?"

I am a first-grade teacher and a new empty nester. One night I was trying out an art project: making a person with simple materials. I took a coat hanger, attached a paper-plate face, put a shirt on the hanger and stuffed it. Then I sat it on the couch to see how it looked.

Later that evening my son walked in the door, home for a surprise visit. Taking one look at my coat-hanger friend sitting on the couch, he said, "Mom, it's not that bad, is it?"

 

 

When my friend got a job, her husband agreed to share the housework. He was stunned by the amount of effort involved in keeping a house clean with small boys to pick up after, and insisted that he and his wife shop for a new vacuum cleaner. The salesman gave them a demonstration of the latest model. "It comes equipped with all the newest features," he assured them. The husband was not convinced. "Don't you have a riding one?" he asked

My husband and I both work, so our family eats out a lot. Recently, when we were having a rare home-cooked meal, I handed a glass to my three-year-old and told her to drink her milk.

She looked at me bewildered and replied, "But I didn't order milk."

A couple of hours into a visit with my mother she noticed I hadn’t lit up a cigarette once. "Are you trying to kick the habit?" "No," I replied, "I’ve got a cold and I don’t smoke when I’m not feeling well." "You know," she observed, "you’d probably live longer if you were sick more often."

My cooking has always been the target of family jokes. One evening, as I prepared dinner a bit too quickly, the kitchen filled with smoke and the smoke detector went off. Although both of my children had received fire-safety training at school, they did not respond to the alarm. Annoyed, I stormed through the house in search of them. I found them in the bathroom, washing their hands.

Over the loud buzzing of the smoke alarm, I asked them to identify the sound.

"It's the smoke detector," they replied in unison.

"Do you know what that sound means?" I demanded.

"Sure," my oldest replied. "Dinner's ready."

My daughter had absentmindedly left her sneakers on our kitchen table. "That's disgusting," my husband grumbled. "Doesn't she realize we eat off that table?" Then he went out back to work on the car.

I cleaned the table and left to do my grocery shopping. When I came home I couldn't set my bags down anywhere. Sitting in the middle of the kitchen table was a car muffler.

 

 

As my 40th birthday approached, my husband, who is a year younger, was doing his best to rub it in. Trying to figure out what all the teasing was about, our young daughter asked me, "How old is Daddy?"

"Thirty-nine," I told her.

"And how old will you be?"

"Forty," I said sadly.

"But Mommy," she exclaimed, "you're winning!"

To keep their active two-year-old from roaming onto the busy street in front of their home, my sister and brother-in-law decided to put a gate across the driveway. After working over two weekends on the project, Robert was ready to attach the lock to complete the job. He was working on the yard side of the gate, with his daughter nearby, when he dropped the screwdriver he was using and it rolled under the gate, out of his reach.

"I'll get it, Daddy," Lauren called, nimbly crawling under the newly erected barrier.

 

 

Rushing to get to the movies, my husband and I told the kids we had to leave "right now"—at which point our teenage daughter headed for the bathroom to apply makeup. Her dad yelled for her to get in the car immediately, and headed for the garage grumbling.

On the way to the multiplex my husband glanced in the rearview mirror and caught our teen applying lipstick and blush, which produced the predictable lecture. "Look at your mom," he said. "She didn't put on any makeup just to go sit in a dark movie theater."

From the back I heard, "Yeah, but Mom doesn't need makeup."

My heart swelling with the compliment, I turned back to thank this sweet, wonderful daughter of mine just as she continued, "Nobody looks at her."

 

 

My family has a tradition of naming the cruise control on our cars. We were used to hearing my father proclaim, "Take it, Max," as he flipped on the cruise control during long trips in our station wagon.

Recently, I was traveling with my parents in their new car when we hit a wide-open expanse of highway. My dad leaned back and said, "I think I'll let Tom drive for a while."

"Tom who?" I asked.

My mother translated for me: "Tom Cruise, of course."

 

 

I was with a friend in a café when a noisy car alarm interrupted our conversation. "What good are car alarms when no one pays any attention to them?" I wondered aloud.

"Some are quite effective," my friend corrected me. "Last summer, my teenager spent a lot of time at the neighbors'. Whenever I wanted him home, I'd go out to our driveway and jostle his car."

 

 

My sister Darlene has the courage—but not always the skills—to tackle any home-repair project. For example, in her garage are pieces of a lawn mower she once tried to fix. So I wasn't surprised the day my other sister, Jesse, and I found Darlene attacking her vacuum cleaner with a screwdriver. "I can't get this thing to cooperate," she explained. "Why don't you drag it out to the garage and show it the lawn mower?" Jesse suggested.