JOKES FOR THE KINDERGARTNER

Knock knock.

Who's there?

Who.

Who who?

I think there's an owl in here.




Why did the cookie go to the doctor?

He felt a little crummy.




A woman went to the doctor and said, "Somethings wrong with me. I think I'm a spoon."

The doctor said, "Sit down and don't stir."




A dog chased a cat and bit the cat's tail. What did the cat say?

"Me-oww!"




Knock knock,

Who's there?

Oddley hee

Oddley hee who?

I didn't know you could yodel!




What kind of horses go out after dark?

Nightmares.




Two silk worms were in a race. What was the result?

A tie.




What kind of shoes do baby cowboys wear?

Cowbooties.




Where do tough chickens come from?

Hard boiled eggs.




What's the biggest problem with snow boots?

They melt.




How do you fix a broken tomato?

With tomato paste.




What has no beginning, no end and nothing in the middle?

A doughnut.




What kind of jokes do vegetables like best?

Corny ones.



And my favorite:

On which side does a leopard have the most spots?

The outside.

4TH GRADE JOKE OF THE DAY

Why does the sand stink?

Because the sea wee'd.

Hahahahaha.

You know you like it, fourth grader.

Stay tuned for more 4th grade jokes from The Brown Dot and his handy-dandy-electronic-joke-maker that he bought at his daughter's book sale. Some of the jokes are a little not-for-4th-graders-ish. I won't post those.

THE CLOWN CAR

This is my cute little car. I love it, I really do but it has a sense of humor and is a real jokster. It has been on loan to Lord Bumhampton and Nurse Giggleswitch for a couple of years and so I almost forgot what a funny little car it is. For instance, it looks powerful, doesn't it? It will climb mountain roads that other cars tremble at, but it takes four days to go from zero to sixty. And then you have to be going down hill for about four hundred miles.

It has had three--at least--new ignitions installed as it gets in a snit and grits it's gears and when the key is inserted it ignores it. It won't even let the key turn.

We haven't been able to open the trunk for about three years. It feels like a child stuck a tiny little rock into the key slot but you never know. The Trickster car might just have turned the tumblers all by itself.

And the door locks? That's its favorite joke. You are supposed to be able to lock either the drivers side door or the passenger side door and...zzzing, all the doors lock instantly. Not so. The drivers side door locks only that door. The passenger side sometimes locks them all, sometimes unlocks them all but sometimes only itself. Unless you slam the door so hard that people in houses two blocks away report earthquakes. Then, sometimes it locks everything.

The other day I was doing the routine:

• Lock the back door, manually.
• Close the drivers door and lock it with a key.
• Walk to the passenger door.
• Lock the back door, manually.
• Close the passenger door and lock it with a key. Everything should be fine.

Zzing--lock. Then Zzing, zzing, zzing. The doors, ALL OF THEM, unlocked, locked and unlocked. I locked that door again, thinking okay, it's going to lock everything again. Not so. Only the passenger door locked, leaving all the other doors unlocked.

• So, I locked the back door, manually.
• Closed the passenger door, locked it.
• Walked to the drivers side, opened the door, locked the back door, manually.
• Closed the door and locked it with the key.

Everything locked tight. I smiled. Turned to go and "Zzing, zzing, zzing, zzing, zzing...I lost count of how many times EVERY BLOOMIN' DOOR LOCKED AND UNLOCKED and in the end everything was unlocked. The key wasn't anywhere near the door and neither was I.

And so it goes, the cute little red clown car. We have a affair of tolerance going on. It gives me much amusement and I restrain driving it off a cliff and jumping out just before it goes over the edge. But I talk about doing it when I'm driving just to give it a thrill.

PS The car's antics now explain Lord Bumhampton's recent facial twitch. I'm beginning to feel a twitch coming on, too.

LEAVING LIZA IN THE CARPORT

It was summer. Liza was still little, maybe seven months old. We were having a family dinner on the front lawn like regular red-necks. (If we all get together there are 23 of us and we can't really all fit into the house and it's so nice to eat outside--that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. There are no derelict cars, abandoned in tall weeds. I promise. Perhaps we are only pseudo-red-necks.)

Taylor, Sharee, Austin and Bailey piled out of their car. All doors were slammed. No one looked back, as if a baby was there. They just came to the table for "how-de-do's" and hugs.

"Where's Liza?" I said.

Taylor looked at Sharee and Sharee looked at Taylor. All the blood drained out of both their faces. Their eyes widened. I could see the whites all around their pupils.

"Oh, no. We left her at home, in the carport," one of them said in a horrified whisper. They both turned toward the car. One was fumbling with the keys. The other stumbled in haste, "Hurry," they said in unison.

I will never forgive them. Never.

They stopped, they leaned against each other, laughing hysterically.

Hysterical laughter is never, I repeat, never attractive. They laugh to this day. Not hysterically but in a kind of smirky sort of way. They think it is funny that I believed they would leave Liza in the carport. She, of course, was asleep in her car seat. In the car.

It wasn't funny. They owe me. Those unattractively hysterical laughing people owe me. They really do