Huge Fans

PDG is trying to learn the art of joke telling. So far, it isn't coming particularly naturally, which I think is normal. If not, whatever, it is what it is.

J-Man decided to help him out the other night by pointing towards the ceiling as they somehow both were lying together in PDG's tiny toddler bed. J-Man prompted, "Why does that cheer for me?"

Silence I imagine.

"Because it's a huge fan of mine."

Get it? He went on.

Why does that write me letters?

Because it's a huge fan of mine.

PDG ate up those two jokes and later repeated them to me a few times in a row during bedtime the next night. We decided to add some new ones into the rotation.

J-Man: Why does that clap for me?

Me: Because it's a huge fan of mine. Why does it wear my jersey?

J-Man: Because it's a huge fan of mine. Why does it applaud when I come in the room?

Me: Because it's a huge fan of mine. Why does it drink too much when I drop a pass?

J-Man: Because it's a huge fan of mine. Why does it shoot me like Selena?

It took a second before I was dying of laughter in tears, PDG and MDG both looking at me like a crazy person. Maybe it isn't as funny reading it here. Maybe it's because I'm a Spanish teacher who has shown Selena on multiple occasions for lessons on Culture and therefore needed no refreshing on her tragic ending. Or maybe it wasn't actually funny and I'm just on the verge of some breakdown. After all, a minute after I stopped wiping away my tears, PDG did ask both me and J-Man if we were feeling better now, in his most earnestly nurturing voice.

We assured him that we were. In fact, we were the luckiest parents in the world. And lucky for us, bedtime tears don't always have to be out of anger.