Willa has started telling jokes. Her own. They are long, and involve whatever is in the room that her darting eyes rest upon. They end with her cracking herself up, and me cursing the fact that genetics failed. Clearly, she's inherited her dad's sense of humor. Want an example?
"What did the... uh... uh.... oh! What did the monkey... say to the um... ball?"
And I have to play along. Even though I know that we're not going to land anywhere near making sense. So, I say, "I don't know what did the monkey say to the ball?"
This part she doesn't have to think about. Because of course the monkey would say the following to the ball: "You bounce up and down, and I'll go up in this tree, and pick a banana. And then I'll eat it."
This is very funny to her. She laughs so hard, her cheeks get red, her eyes get teary. And her look of accomplishment is so endearing and sweetly ridiculous, I crack up too.
I am pretty sure that all kids tell these kinds of jokes on their own. It's fascinating to watch someone learn humor and how to work a tough room.
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