En route to church several years ago, my eldest was in a foul mood. Part of the problem was her concentrated focus on self and immediate surroundings, which inevitably leads to misery. I tried to devise any way to shift her focus onto anything else. Just then we drove past a field where grazed several hundred head of cattle. Before I considered possible punch lines, I offered up the first “cow joke” in what has become, to my kids’ chagrin, a protracted tale of bovine silliness. Here is a small sample:
What did the black cow say to the brown cow?
How are Moo?
Where did the cow go on vacation?
Moonesota, or maybe Mooisiana.
What did the cow sister say to her brother in the back seat of their car?
Moooove over!
What did the calf say to its mom?
Nothing, cows can’t talk.
What was the calf thinking when he found his mom?
Got milk?
You get the idea; I’ll spare you a longer list. The kids are funny; if I start one they groan, but they pay close attention. They say they don’t like dad’s cow jokes, but they are becoming legendary around here. Here’s one last pair that I particularly enjoyed:
What did the brown cow say to the spotted cow that put a blindfold on him?
Nothing, cows can’t talk.
What was the blindfolded brown cow thinking?
How did you do that without thumbs?
3 comments:
Tell us an udder one!
you two are two of a kind.
this is the stuff that will go down in history!
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