Trying to teach a four-year-old to tell a joke is like...trying to teach a four-year-old to wash the dishes. It's clean, but oh-so-messy, goes all over the place, and still requires you to finish things up when it's done."Why did the chicken cross the road?" she tries for the twentieth time in as many hours.
"I don't know, Saia. Why?" I monotone with a strained smile.
"Because she...it...wanted to...she was trying to...because...to get to...because she had to cross the street...um...to be over the...to cross the road...to get...to get..."
"To the other side, baby! To get to the other side," I practically weep.
"Yeah," she smiles satisfactorily, "That's right, Mom!"
[And the crowd goes wild!!! Okay, maybe not.]
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