While at work on his birthday, a coworker asked my husband how old he was.
“Forty-seven,” my husband said glibly, choosing an age far enough from the truth so as to be an obvious lie.
“Wow, you look good for your age,” the coworker replied. “You don’t look a day over 40!”
“I was joking,” responded my husband drily. “I’m only 37.”
“Oh,” said the man. Then he quickly excused himself to the bathroom!
Even though that happened nearly a year ago, that story still cracks me up. As does this one:
My darling, beautiful, bright blue-eyed five-year-old daughter in her purple floral dress and blonde pigtails was playing with her stuffed animals: a small tiger named “El Tigre” in one hand, and a smaller bunny rabbit [name unknown] in the other. One was hopping at top speed while the other ran along behind.
“He’s chasing the bunny,” my daughter sweetly informed me. Then her hands got closer and closer together as the tiger gained on the bunny. Suddenly, to my horror and surprise, the tiger pounced on the bunny. “Got it!” she exclaimed. The poor defenseless rabbit lay sprawled on its stomach, arms and legs askew as my daughter dipped the tiger’s face up and down on the rabbit while making noises like, “Nom nom nom.”
Then she looked up and beamed at me, “He’s eating it!”
What the…? No more Animal Planet for her, that is, if she watched Animal Planet in the first place. Where did she learn this? I wouldn’t be surprised to find this as innate behavior in a boy, but my sweet little girl? I was a little shocked by it all but also greatly amused. I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the scene. Carnage and cuteness don’t normally mix.