Trixie has been babbling so much lately that it’s easy to forgot that she has none of our shared verbal cultural history. You discover her earnest shortcomings on a fairly regular basis when you just slip into casual conversation. The latest incident was my attempt to tell Trixie a joke:
I say, “Knock, knock.”
Trixie’s got nothing.
“Trixie, say ‘who’s there?’, Ok? I’ll do it again.”
I fill in for her. ” Knock, knock. Who’s there?”
Trixie has plenty to say about that:
Trixie will run around screaming Mommy for five minutes. That’s the sign of a very good joke. And it’s flexible. If Jenn is the one telling it, the punchline switches to “DADDY!” If you like edgier humor, the punchline is also sometimes “JUICE!” Need to clean it up because you’re telling the joke in front of the grandparents? Try “ELMO!” The only thing you can’t do with this joke it get to the real punchline. But that’s ok, she doesn’t really care about oranges and bananas anyway*.
*Orange you glad you’re not a banana.