A couple months ago, the Vachette and I were out grocery shopping. She walked around the produce department with her own imaginary list picking out fruit and vegetables for her imaginary friends. This largely consists of her running here and there, waving her warms wildly at the shelves as she “selects” items for her “basket”. Needless to say, this behavior is beyond cute, and I am not the only adult who melts when s/he sees it. One of the employees noticed her and tried telling her a knock knock joke. He went with the old school banana-orange classic, and the whole thing went right over her head.
But something must have clicked recently, because she is now all about Knock Knock jokes all the time. Or, at least, she is all about the concept. She could use some work with punchlines and joke delivery. For example, the aforementioned banana-orange classic. When she tells the joke, she forget she’s supposed to answer who’s there with several rounds of banana before she switches to orange. Instead she jumps right into orange you glad I didn’t say banana.
The best jokes are the original ones she creates on her own. They try to fit into the classic Knock Knock joke framework, but she adds her own je ne sais quoi. Like this one:
Vachette: Knock knock.
Mommy: Who’s there?
Vachette: Silly noisy machine cranking out potatoes.
Mommy: Silly noisy machine cranking out potatoes who?
Vachette: Crank crank crank.
Her machine always cranks out potatoes, but sometimes the adjectival string of modifiers before the machine can be quite long, and it takes a great deal of focus to recall each part in your XXXXXXXX machine cranking out potatoes who? response.
I may be a bit biased, but I love non-sensical sense of humor. Not only do her jokes crack me up, I’ve adopted her machine cranking out potatoes framework and created my own versions for her. Thus, laughter is a constant sound throughout our house. Her laughter, in particular, is food for the soul. I need to record the sound for posterity, so that I can replay it during her teenage years, the days when she will likely be less inclined to laugh with her parents. Though who knows? I may be biased such to find her version of the adolescent eye-roll to be endearing.