Humour in age

Yesterday my daughter e-mailed me again asking why I didn’t do something useful with my time. Like sitting at home writing a book is not a good thing. Talking about my “doing something useful” seems to be her favourite topic of conversation. She was “only thinking of me” and even suggested I go down to the village hall or the library and hang out with the folks there.

I did this and when I got home last night I decided to show her that I had learned one or two things in life to help keep myself busy.
I e-mailed her and told her that I had joined a parachute club.

She replied, “Are you crazy? You are in your fifties, and now you’re going to start jumping out of perfectly good planes?”

I told her that I even got a membership card and e-mailed a copy to her..

She immediately telephoned me, “Good grief, where are your glasses! This is a membership to a Prostitute Club, not a Parachute Club.”

I replied, “Oh boy, I’m in trouble again. I really don’t know what to do, I signed up for five jumps a week… and prepaid!”

The line went quiet and her friend picked up the phone and said that she had fainted.

Life as a Dad is not getting any easier, but sometimes it can be fun.

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