< class="entry-title">“It’s OK, Oakley. I’ve got a joke!”

We were working in the garden yesterday, toiling away with the planting of the new vegetables (which I’ll catalog here sometime soon.)

Oakley comes out of the house (having done something), and she’s gritting her teeth and grunting.

Oakley: Grrr!
Tim: What?
Oakley: I stained my pants.
Tim: OK. No big deal.
Oakley: Ugh.
Lindy: It’s OK, Oakley. I’ve got a joke.
Tim: OK.
Lindy: Aspen is a ho! [_laughs_]
Aspen: What?!
Lindy: Aspen is a ho!
Aspen: That’s not even a word!
Lindy: [_laughs again_]
Aspen: Lindy, you don’t even know what that means!
Lindy: [_laughs again_]
Aspen: What do you think a ho is?
Lindy: It’s kind of like a rake, but not.
Aspen: Oh, OK, you’re right, but that still doesn’t make sense.

Yes, I know, this kind of ho is spelled hoe. But no, er noe, it wouldn’t have been as funny that way. And yes, Jenn and I managed to stifle our laughing fit through the entire incident.

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