What is it about six year old boys that love April Fools? Matthew has been playing April Fools jokes on me since the first.
“I have a present for you Daddy.”
“What is it?
It’s raining outside, Daddy.”
Then he tried to tell jokes in the form of his math homework.
“If there are fifteen ice cream cones on an airplane and the airplane lands in Chicago, how many ice cream cones are left?”
Of course there’s no logic to that, and after trying to argue with him over it, I gave up and said, “Five.”
“No,” he said after pondering for a reply. “Four.”
Finally in bed, while in his pajamas and I’m reading him a bedtime story, a childhood version of Last of the Mohicans, he tapped me on the arm. I’m at the point in the story that has a lot of anticipation—the party on the side of the good guys has been captured and are being led to the enemy camp for who knows what—so I expected a story question from Matthew. He did ask a question, though it had nothing to do with the story.
“If you stick up you middle toe, is that a curse?”
“Like a middle finger. If you stick up your middle toe, is that a curse?”
I couldn’t answer because I was laughing..
“Like this.” He sat up and with one hand held down the two most left toes on one foot and with the other hand held down the two most right toes. The middle toe was sticking up.
I couldn’t stop from laughing. “No, it’s not. Now stop that.”
He’ll do anything to prolong getting to sleep.