Sometimes, you have to explain the joke for me to get it. Sometimes, I still don't get it. It's probably not surprising that I'm not a very good joke teller.
Devin woke up and came downstairs this morning and I said to him, "What's up?" He pointed at his chest. "Your shirt?" I asked, confused. He smiled at me recognizing that I'm slow. He pointed again at his chest. "OH! You! You're up!"
Isn't that clever? Devin is a funny clown.
Here's the also part. I signed Trevor up for T-Ball. I signed him up late. I would have signed him up for Soccer, which all his friends play, but I missed the cut-off. Anyway, he's signed up for t-ball, and he's missed all the practices, and the first game is on Thursday if it doesn't rain. I've been trying to teach him the game. Who knew it had so many rules? Who knew I would remember enough rules to think there are "so many rules"?