Saturday, February 26, 2011

The Effect of Dry Humor

As I was driving home with my youngest daughter, she mentioned that the other day, she had visited a friend who showed her some very old books, one in particular that dated back over 200 years. She commented on how cool it was to hold such a volume in her hands . . . the idea being that anything old brings with it some fascination and intrigue. Then, in my usual way, I commented that I had something that was even older, and I asked her if she wanted to see it. This really piqued (=to arouse or simulate) her interest. I mean the idea that your dad has something more fascinating than what you saw at your friend's house would arouse some curiosity. What could this old book be?

Once she said that she wanted to see see what I had, I then pulled the car over to the side of the road, got out of the car, picked up a small rock, and then handed it to her. "Here," I said, "is something that is much older than that book."

She was certainly not amused. What she thought would be some mysterious, ancient text, turned out to be some old rock in the road. My kids have gotten used to my dry humor, and they often don't believe anything I say. Anytime I start telling some story, they just roll their eyes and ignore me.

Still, I really enjoy being a father.

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