A first-grader came to the ophthalmology office where I work to have his vision checked. He sat down and I turned off the lights.
Then I switched on a projector that flashed the letters F, Z and B on a screen. I asked the boy what he saw.
Without hesitation he replied, “Consonants.”
Being a teenager and getting a tattoo seem to go hand and hand these days. I wasn’t surprised when one of my daughter’s friends showed me a delicate little Japanese symbol on her hip. “Please don’t tell my parents,” she begged.
“I won’t,” I promised. “You’re 18 now, so I guess it’s your choice. By the way, what does that stand for?”
“Honesty,” she said.
Charlie Brown, Snoopy, Dilbert, Dogbert, Garfield, Jon Arbuckle, and a whole lot of comic strip characters and their pets were on an airplane flying from Miami to Los Angeles.
In the middle of the flight, the flight attendant gave out food to everyone but Charlie Brown and Snoopy. They asked him why everyone else got some food and they didn’t.
The flight attendant said, “Sorry, but we don’t serve PEANUTS on this flight.”
My older son loves school, but his younger brother absolutely hates it. One weekend he cried and fretted and tried every excuse not to go back on Monday. Sunday morning on the way home from church, the crying and whining built to a crescendo.
At the end of my rope, I finally stopped the car and explained, “Honey, it’s a law. If you don’t go to school, they’ll put Mommy in jail.”
He looked at me, thought a moment, then asked, “How long would you have to stay?”
The farmer’s son was returning from the market with the crate of chicken’s his father had entrusted to him, when all of a sudden the box fell and broke open. Chickens scurried off in different directions, but the determined boy walked all over the neighborhood scooping up the wayward birds and returning them to the repaired crate. Hoping he had found them all, the boy reluctantly returned home, expecting the worst.
“Pa, the chickens got loose,” the boy confessed sadly, “but I managed to find all twelve of them.”
“Well, you did real good, son,” the farmer beamed. “You left with seven.”
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