A Favourite Joke

Granddaughters (aged 4, aged 6) in my hammock, reading a joke book.

“Why did the chicken cross the road, roll in the dirt and cross back again?
Because it was a dirty double crosser!”
Grandchild 5 (aged 1) has a hot-tired-left-out grump going on so I scoop her up, the whole squishy chunk of her, and she snuggles her head to my shoulder.
Plan: put blanket in the other hammock, to cover the bump of the knot work, to make a cozy nest.
Problem with plan: forgetting this sling of string has been left out all winter and is likely to be perilously frayed.
We fell through it. 
I hit the metal frame, G5 bounced unharmed off my ribcage, runs off wailing. The six year old retrieves her as Granma is caught in the net.
(Soft tissue soreness, wrenched, crunched, dignity obliterated, nothing serious.)
Granddaughters (aged 4, aged 6) have found their favourite joke of the afternoon:
“You fell through the hammock, Granma! You were stuck!”

Granma rather likes the one about the chicken. 


What a FUN post.

No surprise, considering my immature sense of humor, but I loved your granddaughter's joke. (And it's a new one for me!) I'll have to remember it to tell my grands.

I'm glad the only thing you hurt was your dignity. I'm sure the kids think you're very entertaining. :)
Aw... glad you're all okay. I fell through a chair with my baby nephew once - pretty scary for all involved, not least my sister!
Dylan Mitchell said…
I have not been so lucky: I recently fell and fractured 4 of my ribs. Ouch. Well, it only hurts when I am not flat on my back in bed.

I just wanted to leave you a comment because I consider you a very fine person and writer. I'm not really a part of the social media circus (I am a recluse in real life), so why should I pretend to be something else online?

I got seduced into it all for a bit, but I think it is best for me to just pretend I am writing in my diary - and ignore all the silly insults and death threats: How did they find the secret key!

Anyway, I admire and envy you in so many ways. I just wish you would post more often!


P.S. Just because you have not received a word from me - does not mean I am not reading your immortal words. It just means I am being my usual recluse self :-)
Lisa Southard said…
Broken ribs are mean - you can't do much about them, bit like trolls.
There's no harm in being reclusive, particularly if it's who you are, and I'm pleased that the freedom of writing a diary was only a little dulled by the stupidity of death mongers.
As for the rest of this - I feel like you just ran over here (yes, broken ribs and all) and gave me an armful of flowers. Thank you so much! ( I would hug you but your ribs won't like it and my arms are full of flowers.)
Lisa Southard said…
These babies are clearly much heavier than we give them credit for! Hopefully everyone is laughing about it now :-)
Lisa Southard said…
I don't bruise easy! And I love that chicken joke. And grandchildren laughing, so it's a win-win really :-) x

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