When my son was about four years old, I introduced him to an old joke:

You say to someone, “what were you eating under there” while being nonspecific about the location, and they respond, “under where?”, and then you hit them with the zinger, “you were eating underwear?!”

All day he was excited for his mum to come home to do the joke for her. But he wanted the laugh line, so he had me be the straight man and tee him up…

Me: “What were you eating under there?”

Son: “Underpants!”

I work in the self-checkout of a retail store. I like working evenings as then I have time to talk to customers. I really enjoy talking to the kids and one night, around 8 PM, a woman and her seven-or-eight-year-old son come in.]

He’s doing that kid thing where they pull their arms into their t-shirt and pretend they don’t have arms.

Me: *Jokingly.* “It looks like your arms fell off! I saw a pair on the floor in aisle five.”

I know it’s a dumb joke, but I am a dad.

This young man looks me dead in the eye and says in a gruff voice:

Child: “I lost them in the war!”

It was so perfect. I thought I was going to hurt myself laughing so hard. When I got myself under control, the mother looks at me:

Mother: “He’s always like this.”

I really hope they come back. I can’t wait to see what else he has to say.

My dad had always liked to mix foods in unlikely combinations. For example, his “refrigerator omelets” would include whatever leftovers in the fridge that caught his eye.

One day, when he was in his nineties, I took him shopping at our local market. He stopped at the hot soup bar and pointed at the pea soup.

Me: “Okay, Dad, you want some pea soup?”

I added one ladle of pea soup into a container.

Dad: “Eh, eh.”

He stopped me, pointing at the minestrone.

Me: “Dad, you want me to mix them?”

He nodded.

Me: “Pea soup and minestrone? Do you realize what you’re creating? Peanistrone!”

He nodded. 

I did it, but I’m not proud of it.

The last time I saw my ophthalmologist I asked her:

Me: “Did you know when you die, the eyes are the last to go?”

Ophthalmologist: “No, I’ve never heard of that.”

Me: “It’s because the eyes die late.” 

It took her a couple seconds to get it.

Source.

I overheard this on a train, clickety-clacking along the rails one calm sunny afternoon. A boy, less than ten years old, turns to his dad.

Boy: “Dad, why does the train keep clicking?”

What followed was a piece of bullcrap so brilliant that I am tempted to renege on my promise to never lie to a kid.

Dad: “Well, what is a train? The locomotive and the cars. But the cars are only riding along, so only the locomotive is important. And what is the locomotive? Electric engines and wheels. But the engines are rotary, so these do not click. That leaves the wheels, and what is a wheel? A disc. A disc is pi times radius times radius. But pi is a constant; you do not need it. And what is radius times radius? Radius squared. And corners of that square are what clicks.”