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Favorite this joke 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."
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.
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?"
Even with a thousand games, dolls and crafts to choose from, my customer at the toy store still couldn’t find a thing for her grandson.
"Maybe a video or something educational?" I asked.
"No, that’s not it," she said.
We wandered the aisles until something caught her eye, a laser gun with flashing lights and 15 different high-pitched sounds.
"This is perfect," she said, beaming. "My daughter-in-law will hate it."
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