Knock Knock...

A Sunday Leatherman dinner is generally something to dread.  One Leatherkid is chewing with his mouth open, wiping his mouth on the neck of his t-shirt and constantly turning to watch whatever sport is on TV.  The other Leatherkid, sitting across from him because if they were sitting next to each other they'd be fighting... physically, is lying belly down across her chair, her hair almost dusting the ground and her plate full of uneaten food. And Leatherdaddy is unhappy... expressively unhappy.  Virtually every Sunday.  Every meal, really.

So when I found myself laughing at the dinner table this past Sunday and looking across to see Daddy laughing, too, I was pleasantly surprised and wondering when it would turn, soaking up every smile... every giggle... everything positive in the moment that I could, while I could.

Turns out, it lasted for awhile.  The source of it?  Knock-knock jokes, told by the kids.

Ella started it.  I didn't even know she knew any, not that her execution proved that she knows any... which actually made them funnier.

"Knock knock," she started.

"Who's there?" one of us responded.

"Cow, MOO!" she said.

"No, that's not it!  You say 'Interrupting cow...'" Cal corrected her.

"Knock knock," again, Ella tried.

"Who's there?"

"Interrupting cow MOO!" she said, again, ruining the joke.

"No, you need to wait to say 'Moo'" we all chimed in.

Ella proceeded to attempt several more times, eventually getting it right, "Knock knock."

"Who's there?"

"Interrupting cow," she replied.

"Interrupting c..." 

"MOO!" Ella exclaimed, proudly getting it.

We then struggled with the purposely annoying "banana" knock-knock joke, you know, the one that repeats banana a bunch of times until someone introduces another, specific fruit.  It was fun to watch the wheels turn in Cal's head on this one.

"Knock knock," he started.

"Who's there?" we all asked.

"Banana," Cal responded.

"Banana who?" Dan and I asked, knowing full well how this one went.

""Knock knock," Cal said again.

"Who's there?"

"Banana," Cal responded.

"Banana who?"

"Knock knock," again, Cal started, this time looking up, clearly thinking about what his next step was.

"Who's there?"

"Banana," Cal said again.

"Banana who?"

"Knock knock," Cal clearly hadn't figured out what was next, so Dan stepped in to explain.  He instructed the kids to say it twice and then the third time say "Orange. There's an art to this.  Twice isn't enough.  Four times is too much."  Yes, three times is the target.  I didn't have the heart to tell him he had cut it short by one.  Really, you should do the "banana" part three times and the "orange" part once.  "Orange you glad I didn't say 'banana' again?"

Ella struggled with that one for a bit, then pulled out this one, "Knock knock."

"Who's there?" we asked.

"Spell what," she stated.

"No," Cal corrected her.  "Just say 'spell.'"

Ella struggled with this one for many more rounds when Cal took over.  But instead of doing what we expected (i.e. "spell 'who'?"), he did this, "Knock knock."

"Who's there?"

"Who's," he responded.

"Who's who?"

"I'm Cal, you're Mommy, you're Ella, you're Daddy," he said and laughed, and so did we... very hearty laughs.  We all thought this was genuinely funny, Cal included.

When Cal knows he has an audience (me), he knows to tap into it regularly.  That he's tried some knock-knock jokes at bedtime over the course of this week thus far is no surprise to me.

"Knock knock," he started.

"Who's there?"  I asked, like any good knock-knock-ee.

"Cal," he replied.

"Cal who?" I asked.

"Cal Leatherman!"  He was proud of himself.

Duh.

Not to be outdone my by 8-year-old kid, I had to try one, having the concept of it in my head but struggling to come up with a good example.  This was the best I could do:

"Knock knock," I said.

"Who's there?" He was a willing participant.

"Don't punch," I replied.  You can see where this is going.

"Don't punch who?" Cal then asked.

I jumped all over him.  "Don't punch ANYONE!" I exclaimed, poking him playfully in his side, as if to yuck it up over my funniness and ignoring the improperness of the grammar required to make that joke work.

There were many others attempted and a few delivered with some level of success; and they escape me now.  But it's been a cheesey knock-knock-joke kind of week in the Leatherkid household; and one that we've all participated in, contributed to and actually veritably enjoyed.