SCENE: My teenage daughter and me in the car.
Lauren: Dad, do you know what the most commonly used letter in a girl’s name is?
Me: Hmm, is it a consonant or a vowel? (Silence.) Please tell me you know what consonants and vowels are.
Lauren: You’re no fun, Dad. Forget it.
Me: What is a vowel?
Lauren: OK, OK. A vowel is … ahh … eh … well, oh … uh …
Me: Close enough.
—by Robert Alvarez, author of Blonde Moments: Life with a Blonde Teenage Daughter
My husband was waterskiing when he fell into the river. As the boat
circled to pick him up, he noticed a hunter sitting in a duck boat in the reeds. My husband put his hands in the air and joked, “Don’t shoot!”
The hunter responded, “Don’t quack.”
Katie O’Connell, Warrenville, Illinois
A salesman talked my uncle into buying 10,000 personalized pens for his business with the promise that
he would be eligible to win a 32-foot yacht. A born gambler, my uncle agreed.
Well, he won, and a few weeks after the pens arrived, his prize showed up: a 12-inch plastic yacht with
32 plastic feet glued to the bottom.
Eddie Edwards, Ripley, Tennessee
A woman noticed her husband standing on the bathroom scale, sucking in his stomach. “Ha! That’s not going to help,” she said.
“Sure, it does,” he said. “It’s the only way I can see the numbers.”
The black lacquer stand
holding his prized samurai swords was dusty, so my husband left our cleaning lady a note, reading, “Check out my swords.” That evening, he found the stand just as dirty as
before but with this appended to
his note: “Nice swords.”
Eleonore Bode-Lemming, Salem, Oregon
I’ve been working on my PhD
in engineering for the past five years, but my kids don’t necessarily see that as work.
As we were driving past Walmart one day, my son spotted a Now Hiring sign and suggested that I could get
a job there.
Hoping to make a point, I asked, “Do you think they’re looking for an engineer?”
“Oh, sure,” he said. “They’ll hire anybody.”
Christopher Fields, Fort Collins, Colorado
Scene: A conversation with my friend’s father, who knows I do
Father: I have a business idea. How hard is it to make a Facebook?
Me: Oh, very easy.
Friend: He doesn’t mean to make
a Facebook profile. He means to
remake all of Facebook.
Me: Oh. Very hard.
Father: Oh, OK.
Halloween is the beginning of the holiday shopping season. That’s for women. The beginning of the holiday shopping season for men is Christmas Eve.
The biggest change after having kids was putting a swear jar in the house. Whenever I say a bad word,
I have to put a dollar in the jar, and
at the end of every month, I take all that money and buy myself a nice steak for being such a cool dad.
Comedian Mark Chalifoux
“Has your son decided what
he wants to be when he grows up?”
I asked my friend.
“He wants to be a garbageman,”
“That’s an unusual ambition to have at such a young age.”
“Not really. He thinks that garbagemen work only on Tuesdays.”
My ten-month-old was sitting in her high chair, twisting and moving all over the place. My wife said to me, “Straighten her up.”
I looked at my daughter and said, “What are you doing with your life? Do you want to be this way forever? It’s time to grow up.”
My wife hasn’t asked me to do anything since.
@trmiller1326, from reddit.com
None of my grandsons share my corny sense of humor. When the family is eating lasagna, I say, “Lean over your plate, boys. You’ll get
less-on-ya.” I say to the ten-year-old, “Don’t yell through the screen; you’ll strain your voice.” And when I took another grandson to the zoo, I asked, “Do you know why that snake’s not pressed against the glass? He doesn’t want to be a windshield viper.”
They’ll probably laugh later.
Homer Adams, Nashville, Tennessee
Dad rarely dresses up, so when he left the bedroom decked out in a suit and tie, he wanted to commemorate the moment. Handing me a camera, he asked, “Mind taking a selfie of me?”
Rachel Hester, Clover, South Carolina
My father was completely lost in the kitchen and never ate unless someone prepared a meal for him. When Mother was ill, however, he volunteered to go to the supermarket for her. She sent him off with a carefully numbered list of seven items.
Dad returned shortly, very proud of himself, and proceeded to unpack the grocery bags. He had one bag of sugar, two dozen eggs, three hams, four boxes of detergent, five boxes of crackers, six eggplants, and seven green peppers.
Submitted by Joan Flood
On the day I received my learner’s permit, my father agreed to take me out for a driving lesson. With a big grin, he hopped in behind the driver’s seat. “Why aren’t you sitting up front on the passenger’s side?” I asked.
“Kirsten, I’ve been waiting for this ever since you were a little girl,” Dad replied. “Now it’s my turn to sit back here and kick the seat.”
Submitted by Kirsten Wiley
While flying from Denver to Kansas City, Kansas, my mother was sitting across the aisle from a woman and her eight-year-old son. Mom couldn’t help laughing as they neared their destination and she heard the mother say to the boy, “Now remember — run to Dad first, then the dog.”
Submitted by Karla J. Kasper
My husband’s cousin married a former Marine who now works for United Parcel Service. They bought their four-year-old son two stuffed bears — one in a UPS uniform and the other in Marine garb. When the boy seemed confused, his father brought out a picture of himself in full Marine dress. “See, Connor?” he explained, pointing to the photo and then to the bear. “That’s Daddy.”
Connor’s eyes went from one to the other, and then he asked in a puzzled voice, “You used to be a bear?”
Submitted by Robin Yedlock
Father’s Day was near when I brought my three-year-old son, Tyler, to the card store. Inside, I showed him the cards for dads and told him to pick one.
When I looked back, Tyler was picking up one card after another, opening them up and quickly shoving them back into slots, every which way. “Tyler, what are you doing?” I asked.
“Haven’t you found a nice card for Daddy yet?”
“No,” he replied. “I’m looking for one with money in it.”
Submitted by Terri Cook
I decided to make myself useful and do a load of the family laundry. When I took the clothes out of the machine, I discovered — to my dismay — that I had also washed the watch my wife had given me while we were dating. “Don’t expect me to replace it,” she said later with an obvious lack of sympathy. By the time Father’s Day rolled around, however, she had relented and gave me a beautiful new watch. Attached was a note with this stipulation: “DRY-CLEAN ONLY!”
Submitted by Paul Diblasi
Our Gen-X daughter, Cristie, made my husband a Father’s Day card entitled “Things My Dad Would Never Say.” Such as:
“Can you turn up that music?”
“Go ahead and take my truck. Here’s 50 bucks for gas.”
“I LOVE your tattoo. We should both get new ones.”
“Here, you take the remote.”
Submitted by Deanna Schneider
Before I took the old family car to college, my father loaded the trunk with soft-drink bottles filled with oil, coolant and transmission fluid. Sure enough, my car overheated. Scolding myself for not listening to my father’s instructions, I looked at the engine and saw how well he knew me. The oil cap was labeled Dr Pepper, the transmission stick, Coke, and the empty coolant container, Diet Pepsi. I finished the trip safely.
Submitted by Charlotte G. Alexander
My 16-year-old brother, Ryan, was out late with friends one night. Suddenly he realized it was Father’s Day and he had neglected to buy a card for our dad. After much searching, Ryan located an open store, but was disappointed to find only two cards left on a picked-over rack. Selecting one, he brought it home and, somewhat sheepishly, presented it to our father.
Upon opening it, Dad read this message: “You’ve been like a father to me.” He looked at Ryan, puzzled.
“Well, Dad,” Ryan tried to explain, “it was either that or the card that said, ‘Now that I’m a father too!’”
Submitted by Anne Carlson
“Dad?” —Zebra looking at a piano
When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant, I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21,
I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.
Father’s Day is important because, besides being the day on which we honor Dad, it’s the one day of the year that Brookstone does any business.
I gave my father $100 and said, “Buy yourself something that will make your life easier.” So he went out and bought a present for my mother.
I got all my looks from my father. Mostly just the look of disappointment.
A neighbor finds a young boy sitting on the stairs crying. “What’s the matter, honey?” she asks him.
“It’s my father,” the boy says, sobbing. “He hit his finger with a hammer.”
“Then why are you crying?” she says.
“Because first I laughed!” he answers.
—Source: Funny in Serbia Survey
Our priest asked how things were going with my father. "Well, he has issues," I replied, then shared a few details.
After listening, he said, "Issues? Sounds like he’s got a year’s subscription."
My two daughters were discussing the less than desirable physical attributes they had inherited from their father.
The older one: "I hate my freckles from Dad."
Her unsympathetic younger sister: "At least you got his freckles. I got his eyebrow."
The day I knew my in-laws had finally accepted me:
As we pulled into their driveway, my father-in-law was on the phone. "Oh, I have to run," he told the person on the other end. "My daughter-in-law and her husband just arrived."
“Why doesn’t your mother like me?” a woman asks her boyfriend.
“Don’t take it personally,” he assures her. “She’s never liked anyone I’ve dated. I once dated someone exactly like her, and that didn’t work out at all.”
“My father couldn’t stand her.”
I have mixed emotions when I receive Father’s Day gifts. I’m glad my children remember me, but I’m disappointed that they actually think I dress that way.
When I bought my new Lexus Sport Coupe, my two sons asked me who would inherit it if I met my demise. I pondered the question, then told them if I passed away on an even day, the son born on an even day would get it. If it happened on an odd day, the one born on the odd day would get it.
A few weekends later, while river rafting with one of my sons, I was tossed out of the boat. As I floated in the rapids, I heard my son yelling, "It’s the wrong day!"
My five children and I were playing hide-and-seek one evening. With the lights turned off in the house, the kids scattered to hide, and I was "it." After a few minutes I located all of them. When it was my turn to hide, they searched high and low but could not find me.
Finally one of my sons got a bright idea. He went to the phone and dialed; they found me immediately because my phone started ringing.
The family was viewing old slides and one flashed on the screen that caught everyone’s attention. My father, wearing his favorite golf shirt, was holding me at the tender age of three weeks.
The look on his face told all. “There’s my prize possession,” my father said.
Touched, I smiled at him as he continued, “I wonder whatever happened to that golf shirt?”
No one is more cautious than a first-time parent. After our daughter was big enough to ride on the back of my bicycle, I bought a special carrier with a seat belt and got her a little helmet. The day of the first ride I put her in the seat, double-checked all the equipment, wheeled the bike to the end of the driveway, carefully looked both ways and, swinging my leg up over the crossbar, accidentally kicked her in the chin.
—Contributed by Zachary Gibbs
It began as an innocent game with my toddler son, Robert. I’d get in the fighter’s stance and start shadowboxing. Jabbing with both fists, I’d say, "One-two, one-two," and he would imitate me over and over.
I never thought about the consequences of this little exercise until my wife took our son to a birthday party. When the boy’s mother was handing out noisemakers she leaned over to Robert and asked, "Would you like one too?"
It took my wife a while to explain her way out of what happened next.
On vacation my nine-year-old son, Ryan, and I were at the pool, where two attractive young women wearing thong bikinis were sunning themselves. I noticed that Ryan kept staring at them, but he would occasionally glance back at me.
When they got up to leave, Ryan watched them particularly closely. I was bracing myself for questions he might have when he turned to me and whispered, "Dad, can I take that candy bar those girls left behind?"
A friend of mine has an adopted son who, at six-foot-one, loves to play basketball. The boy was applying to basketball camp, and a section of the application called for him to write a brief essay about himself. My friend got a lump in his throat as he read his son’s words: "Most of all I am thankful that I am adopted…"
Then my friend got a cold dose of reality as he continued: "because my dad is so short."