... where family is the source of humor!

Rabbit Snickers? by Carol Wells

A pet Polish rabbit, received as a gift, had my four young daughters curious about why it was called a Polish rabbit. Caught off-guard, I offered the first thing that popped into my head as explanation. Which led to ... well, you will have to read this story to find out what happened next!

Back around 1993 or so, my daughters received a Polish Rabbit courtesy of my mother. A cute little black and white fur ball that possessed an agreeable attitude and enjoyed snuggling, which proved to be a definite asset considering four little girls would actively be vying for the rabbit's attention.

My daughters, naturally curious, asked why my mother told them it was a Polish rabbit. I did not (and still do not) know much about rabbit breeds therefore was ignorant of the reasons surrounding the naming of those breeds. One would just think a rabbit is a rabbit and nothing more than that. OK, that is how I viewed rabbits, but may not be how everyone regards a rabbit, so when my daughters asked about breed names, I admit lacking an answer.

However, I inherited a trait passed along from somewhere in my family tree where the mouth sometimes pretends to think faster than the brain. It is up to you to decide if that would be a curse or a blessing. Besides, it is a little late in the game now to try to change my genetic circuitry. (Yes, another convenient excuse but it could be true . . . who knows? After all, I know my thighs are the way they are courtesy of my father's mother's side of the family thus preventing me from silently wearing corduroy slacks.)

With barely a hesitation, I responded with, "Well, because you can tell corny jokes and it will laugh at them." Yes, sadly, I went for a lame punch line.

It may be difficult to fathom the notion but my daughters believed me without further question or comment. This perhaps best illustrates the authority persona that a parent represents within their child's mind. One can give an absurd answer, but because you are Mom or Dad, the child will think, "Oh. OK. Well . . . sounds a tad bit farfetched but they must know what they are talking about. After all, they are older and wise . . . and, on top of that, they are [parental title inserted here] . . .."

Imagine my surprise, and jolt to my sense of humor, at what I later witnessed! The girls were seated in a circle on the living room floor with the rabbit sitting in the middle. Each of my daughters had brought out their collection of joke books, patiently waiting to take a turn to tell the poor rabbit a joke. After each joke, they would pause as they silently waited to hear if the rabbit would emit a giggle or a guffaw.

Of course, the rabbit did not do either. A round of sighs shared by the four children. "I thought for sure that one would get him to at least snicker," one of them would comment as another took their turn sharing a joke. Each child silently hoping that it would their joke deemed the one having the rabbit burst with laughter.

I fought an inner battle to maintain a straight face as I went into the room to cease the round-robin effort and tell them the truth. I explained to them that Mommy had just been pulling their leg since the bunny would not laugh for them, due to being told a joke or not. Each word I said was a struggle for me as I had force myself to bite back the urge to laugh about the joke telling round-robin witnessed a few minutes prior.

Naturally, this news disappointed the children and each one sadly put away their joke books. Occasionally one of them would mutter, "I can't believe I fell for that . . . " or slip a dagger glare in my direction. Yes, they thought I did this on purpose while hoping they would indeed start a joke marathon.

OK, so I was relegated to the proverbial doghouse in my children's opinion. However, look on the bright side! At least I had spared the rabbit from hearing more jokes like "What does a bee say while flying backward? Zzub zzub zzub!" or "Why shouldn't one tell a secret in a cornfield? There are too many ears around!" I am not positive, but I think small animal released a small sigh of relief when I confessed to my daughters that I had been guilty of stretching the truth just a hair. [Or is that 'a hare'?]

You don't really understand human nature unless you know why a child on a merry-go-round will wave at his parents every time around - and why his parents will always wave back.
-- William D. Tammeus

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