Our British family is visiting the USA for the first time. Mum, Dad, my two siblings and I enter the lift from a high floor in a very tall hotel, and make our way down. We keep stopping, and more people get on every few floors.

Every time a new person boards, Dad can’t help but convey a ‘dad joke’ to his growing captive audience.

Dad: “Did you know that in England it’s called a lift, but in America it’s called an elevator? I guess people are just raised differently.”

Cue his entire family (myself included) groaning, and the strangers smirking slightly.

Dad: “Personally, I’ve never cared for elevators. In fact, I usually take steps to avoid them.”

Brother: “Okay, Dad, you can stop now.”

Dad: “That being said, I don’t trust stairs either. They’re always up to something.”

Sister: “Help.”

Me: “How many more floors to go?”

Mum: “Thirty-five.”

Me: *Squeaks.*

Suddenly, one of the other hotel guests, who is a complete stranger to us, turns and says to my dad in an American accent:

Stranger: “Conversely, I love elevators. I get to know people on a lot of different levels.”

Brother: “Oh no… It’s spreading.”

Sister: “Let me out! I don’t wanna catch it!”

We couldn’t all spread out into the lobby fast enough. Dad and his new friend swapped socials, and they were drinking beers in the hotel bar together that night, sparing the rest of us…

We have a small dog who loves to get behind furniture and hide. I don’t know why, but she has no perception when it comes to electrical cords. One frequent victim is the charging cord for my wife’s phone.

One recent evening, my wife picked up her phone to look up something online, only to find it was still almost dead. Sure enough, our pup had gotten tangled in the charging cord and pulled it from the wall.

Me: *Incorrigible punster.* “Puppy, you are a sower of dis-cord!”

Wife: “And dat cord!”

Touché, Wife!

My mother has always been belittled by her parents, her brother, and his wife. They are all gone now, but the damage has been done. However, my sister, her husband, her grandchildren, and I always challenge her to be herself. Our humor is kinda deadpan 

My mother is on vacation in France. For reasons, my father joins her later, and he’s supposed to arrive in a few days. I have a text-chat group with my parents.

This happened over text.

Mom: “I’m off to do some groceries. Any wishes?”

I am well aware this question is directed at my father, but instead of ‘wrong chat’, I decide to grab the opportunity.

Me: “Do they still have [product only available in France]? We’d love some when you get back.”

Mom: “Sure, anything else?”

Me: “They are fresh out of common sense and patience in the Netherlands. So, if you can find a big bucket of either?”

Mom: “I’ll look for it.”

Thirty minutes later:

Mom: “I found [product]!”

Me: “Yay! Thanks, Mom, you’re the best.”

One hour later:

Mom: “I checked all of the shelves, but it seems France is out of patience and common sense as well. Or it was that one empty shelf next to stupid ideas. That one is filled to the brim!”

I am so proud of my mom.

My five-year-old son runs into my bedroom and says to my wife and me:

Son: “There’s a monster under my bed!”

Me: “Huh, that’s new.”

Wife: “Go and check for him.”

Me: “[Son], you’ve never had a monster under your bed before. What makes you think there is one now?”

Son: “Just come and look!”

I get out of bed and follow him to his room. He’s excitedly pointing under his bed. I bend down to look, and I see…

…a can of Monster energy drink.

Son: *Smiling.* “See! It’s a monster!”

I turn to see my wife, laughing her a** off.

Wife: “That’s for all the dad jokes!”

I have to admit, they got me!

I’m a teen and noticed my father has started buying and eating pears recently, which he never did before. He insisted it was because he only liked them right before they went bad, and it was too hard to get the timing right when he was busy with all my siblings, but now that I was the only one left in the house, he could time it better.

Dad: “See this pear is just right.”

Me: “How can you tell?”

Dad: “It still looks good, but when you squeeze it, it’s soft, meaning it’s almost ready to go bad and is at its sweetest.”

Dad looks at the pear for just a second, then gets this big grin on his face and squeezes harder until it squishes into a mess in his hands.

Me: “What are you doing?”

Dad: “Sorry, I gave in to pear pressure.”

He had a bit of a mess to clean up after that, but he seemed to consider his bad joke worth the clean-up.

 Just one more year of dad jokes before I can leave them behind for college. Not that I’m counting or anything.