Day 3. 27 pages, 9,103 words.
I still get a laugh out of this every time.
I’m not sure how I felt about Dad Jokes back when I was a kid. They probably annoyed me, because dads are annoying almost by definition. As a pre-fatherhood adult, I think I was increasingly amused by them because that’s just the sort of person I am. I love a good corny joke. A groan is as good as a laugh, and it plays to my strengths as regards puns and wordplay.
I suppose, when I became a dad myself, it was really more a case of finally finding myself in the role I’d always needed to assume, as befit my joke-level. I had always been a Dad Joke Teller, and now I could do it in a socially celebrated context.
And while the groaner-pun or forehead-smacker language joke among consenting adults is something of a low form of comedy, the requisite audience for a Dad Joke – specifically, a young child just learning the meanings of words and the cultural contract of dialogue – elevates the form to the level of important – nay, hallowed – parental sharing.
She may not like it, but Wump is taking part in a ritual of communication as old as the human race. For the first time in her life she is playing the role of straight man to her father’s comic in a cultural comedy sketch – and learning, in the process, what the two roles mean to our society and communication methods.
This week, I’m mostly editing university theses for money.
Yeah, I’ve been loving this stage with my girls. And for a while now, they’ve been turning the tables on me (usually I see it coming but pretend otherwise), and I think I love that even more!