My husband is the King Of Bad Puns. He gets it from his dad. The thing about both of them is, they are QUICK with them. It’s kind of scary how fast they can just pull out these horrible (but sometimes pretty funny) jokes.
Two examples JUST FROM TODAY:
Example #1: (I mentioned this one on Twitter this morning.)
Maggie was finishing up her yogurt (that she now eats all by herself. With a SPOON! And hardly makes much mess, usually.) and she decided to do a bit of finger painting with it. On her hands, her face, a bit on the table. I commented on her artwork, and Dan says: ‘Is that like yog-ART?’
It’s okay to groan. I did.
I emailed Dan to let him know that his daughter is keeping me busy today with dirty diapers. As in FIVE OF THEM. (Good news: she’s getting better from last week’s stomach bug. Bad news: HOLY POOPY DIAPERS, BATMAN.)
His response? ‘She is keeping up with Steelers’ Super Bowls. I guess she has super bowels…’
It must be exhausting to be him.