I’ve won the inglorious distinction of telling the Worst Joke Ever. When I say worst, not only did this abomination fail to elicit laughter or even a smile from my son – it was so horrifically bad that it actually made him cry.
It all started with Widget1 helping me wrap a Christmas gift for Mommy. After I placed the box under the tree, my son got so excited that he wanted to tell Mommy what was in it. This is the part where a responsible father would have said, “Now son, the surprise of the gift is what makes Christmas so much fun. Every wrapped box is a magical mystery that should only be revealed on Christmas morning. Then in one glorious moment, all the joy of the yuletide holiday shall burst forth, and rainbows and gummy bears shall fall from the heavens.”
That’s what a responsible father would have said.
What this father said was, “If you tell Mommy what her present is, you’ll spoil the surprise. And if you spoil the surprise, you’ll ruin Christmas. And if you try to ruin Christmas, they’ll make a Christmas special about you, and then little claymation dudes will come after you and try to stop you.”
Commence bawling and hiding under blanket. “DADDY SAID THEY’RE GONNA KILL ME!!!”
No, I never said that (my son has a flare for simultaneously taking words too literally and then exaggerating them) but setting aside the technicality, I apologized and told him it was just a joke.
His response: “THAT’S THE WORST JOKE EVER!!!”
So I’ve learned my lesson. Children’s entertainment is not my skill set.
The next day, my son was playing Mario Kart and selected the snow track. “That’s a crazy track,” he said. “Crazy like you, Daddy. You tell crazy jokes!”
I guess that means I’m forgiven.