A dad grew increasingly displeased as his teenage daughter and her boyfriend studied in her room late one evening. Finally losing his patience, he knocked sharply on her door. Her boyfriend immediately opened it and asked if something was wrong.
"I have to ask you to move your car," the father exclaimed.
"Oh, sure. Is it in someone's way?"
"No," the dad replied, "it's at the wrong address."
Three mothers are sitting on a bench talking about how much their sons love them. Sadie says, "You know the Chagall painting hanging in my living room? My son, Arnold, bought that for me for my 75th birthday."
Minnie says, "You call that love? You know the Mercedes I just got for Mother's Day? That's from my son Bernie."
Shirley says, "That's nothing. You know my son Stanley? He's in analysis with a psychoanalyst in Harley Street. Five session a week. And what does he talk about? Me."
One Sunday morning when my son was about five years old, we were attending church in our community. It was common for the preacher to invite the children to the front of the church and have a small lesson before beginning the sermon. He would bring in an item they could find around the house and relate it to a teaching from the Bible.
This particular morning, the visual aid for his lesson was a smoke detector. He asked the children if anyone knew what it meant when an alarm sounded from the smoke detector.
My child immediately raised his hand and said, "It means Daddy's cooking dinner."