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Dear Laney,

At the library last week, we checked out a book called Pinkalicious: Tickled Pink.  In it, a girl named Pinkalicious has a joke book, and tells jokes to her friends on the playground, like:

- Where does a cow go on a date?
- To the mooooovies.

On the way home from the store yesterday, you got around to asking me, "Hey mom, what's a joke?" They always say the fastest way to kill a joke is to start explaining it, but just try explaining the concept of a joke. It's the death of comedy.

So in the car, right then and there, you wanted to practice telling jokes. And here's the thing: you have great comedic timing. You know when the punchline should happen, and how it should be delivered, even though your material makes no sense. This is fine - in fact, it's the preferable problem to have. Worse would be if you had great content and couldn't deliver it. Instead, you have incomprehensible material, and you sell the hell out of it.

Here are some of the jokes you came up with from the comfort of your car seat:

Laney: How does a chicken ride a cat?
Mom: I don't know - how?
Laney: By wishing it was was a dog!

See? Makes absolutely no sense, but the structure's right on.

Or:

Laney: How does a bird fly over the South Pole?
Mom: I don't know - how?
Laney: On a house!

But this was my favorite, which happened right after I explained how "knock knock" jokes work:

Mom: Knock knock.
Laney: Who's there?
Mom: Boo.
Laney: Boo who?
Mom: Why are you crying? (ha ha ha)
Laney: Because nobody is coming to my house. (frowny face)

For a second, it was like you had channeled comedian Steven Wright, famous for telling depressing jokes like, "I spilled spot remover on my dog. He's gone now."

I see great promise in your future comedy career.

Remember: Always Vegas. Sometimes Reno. Never Laughlin.

Love,
Mom