Zippy and I just returned from a family picnic at a park that had a playground. I spent time on a teeter-totter with three nieces, two of us per end.

(This teeter-totter from a long-ago Minneapolis park is much higher than ours today.)

(This teeter-totter from a long-ago Minneapolis park is MUCH higher than ours today.)

The rule was, whoever was up in the air had to tell a joke in order to be lowered to the ground. Here’s a sampling:

Who’s there?
Interrupting cow.
Interrupting cow–?

What do you call a pile of cats?
A meowntain.

What do you call an alligator in a vest?
An investigator.

I rarely attempt telling a joke because I inevitably screw up either the set-up or the punchline. Case in point: I messed up the Orange Knock-Knock Joke today.
I kid you not. But none of them called me out on it and they still lowered me to the ground.

That’s a win.