Three Year Olds Don't Tell Funny Jokes

Aaron: (to me) Knock-knock.
Mommy: Who’s there?
Aaron: (giggling) Me.
Mommy: Me who?
Aaron: (giggling…long pause…more giggling) Me, Aaron!
Mommy: <groan>

Mr. Tech thinks this is a riot and laughs hysterically. This only encourages Aaron.

Aaron: Knock-knock.
Aaron: Mommy! I said KNOCK-KNOCK!
Mommy: Oh. Who’s there?
Aaron: (giggling) uh, Aaron!!!
Mommy: Aaron who?
Aaron: (giggling uncontrollably) Aaron and…and…and NATHAN!
Nathan: (my eight year old) Nuh-uh!!!
Mommy: <groan>

Did I mention this was taking place in the car on the way to work?

Starting off the day with bad knock-knock jokes…I must have pissed off the wrong god!

I think that is hysterical. My little brother used to do the same thing. His joke always started off “There was this man and this woman” He would then start laughing hysterically. It was so funny to see a little kid laugh that hard you would start laughing too. To this day if you say that to my Mother she starts laughing.

Ah, yes. The killer toddler joke. My niece was a wellspring of these at age three.

Aubrey: Knock knock!
Wendy: Who’s there?
Aubrey: … um. Door!
Wendy: Door who?
Aubrey: Tee hee! Knock knock!
Wendy: Who’s there?
Aubrey: Table!
Wendy: OK. Table who?
Aubrey: <giggles helplessly>

She was a master of skipping right over the punchline part.

The favorite joke of Brother Porpentine, then age two:

Knock knock!
Who’s there?
Mr. Miller.
Mr. Miller who?
My name is just Mr. Miller.

When my brother was little, he would tell jokes he made up all the time. His favorite was:

"Once there was a bird, sitting on a pole, and he ate it ALL UP and said, “Mama, Daddy–I ate a pole and now I’m big and fat!”

At which point he’d just collapse into giggles. The first couple of times it was just funny to see him so tickled, but then we got sick of the joke (I’m defining “joke” loosely here) because he told it ALL THE TIME. We told him he needed to get a new joke. So he did. It went like this:

"Once there was a lion sitting on a car, and he ate it ALL UP and said, “Mama, Daddy–I ate a pole–no, wait, I mean car–and now I’m big and fat!”

After that there were many different animals sitting on many different things, then devouring them and bragging to their parents. In desperation we got him a joke book, but he still preferred the “jokes” he made up.

I don’t think little kids get the concept of the punchline.

I don’t know, you have to admit they have a certain Dadaist quality:

“What did the peanut say when he crashed into the elepant?”



Tell Aaron this joke.

JT:“Aaron, I know a great knock knock joke. You start”

A: “OK. Knock knock!”

JT: “Who’s there?”

A: “Uh…”

Hilarity should ensue at this point, if only for the confused look on his face.

Those are hysterical. I think it is wonderful to see little kids laugh like that. Oh for the small pleasures in life!

My sister Katie and I (at ages 5 and 6) used to like to tell knock-knock jokes at the dinner table (ours were real, and usually were of the “orange you glad I didn’t say banana?” variety). My mother told us one she made up about a boy she went to school with as a kid who was named Maury Washim(sp?):

Mom: Knock-knock.
Me: Who’s there?
Mom: Maury Washim.
Me: Maury Washim who?
Mom: Maury Washim, cleaner he gets.

We thought this was a riot, so Mom shared one she made up (maybe, I’ve heard it elsewhere too) about a boy she knew named Isador:

Mom: Knock-knock
Me: Who’s there?
Mom: Isador.
Me: Isador who?
Mom: Isador bell ringing?

By this point, my sister Libby, age 3, was so inspired that she made one of her own up on the spot.

Libby: Knock-knock!
Us: Who’s there?
Libby: (thinks really hard) Piggy mouse!

We all crack up because this makes no sense. What’s a piggy mouse? But we get ourselves together and ask:

Us: Piggy mouse who?
Libby: (grinning) Piggy mouse swingin’ on the doorway!

We nearly wet our pants laughing, it was so nonsensical.

Twenty years later, the Piggy Mouse joke is still legend in our family.

That Piggy Mouse bit cracked me up.

My sister and I used to record ourselves talking and playing on her tapedeck when we were little. I was about 3 and she was 6, and for some reason any time you hear me in the background I’m speaking perfectly clear, but as soon as I get up to the mic I’m talking total gibberish.

I think every story I tried to tell when I was around that age started with “one time, one time…” I’m not sure if I ever got to actual stories. Maybe I shoulda been a Fugee.

I think it takes awhile for a kid to develop a sense of humor.

Which is why my last flight on Southwest Airlines was excruciating.

Basically, a young and verrrrrrry enthusiastic flight attendant, in addition to such games as “The Money Game” (in which each participant writes his or her seat number on a dollar bill and gives it to the flight attendant for a raffle drawing–your buck gets drawn, you win all of them), he thought it would be a great idea to invite the kids on the flight up to the microphone for a talent show!

Some sang.

Some told (very bad) jokes.

Some of them shared camp anecdotes.

Every single one of them thought it was necessary to scream into the microphone.

So for about half an hour, my precious in-flight sleepy time was interrupted by a thousand little Ashleys and Brandons, yelling, “WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD?” into the microphone.

BOY do I know that three-year-olds don’t tell funny jokes.

Well, why did he cross the road?

You started a wonderful story, tossed in this potential gem, and then accidentally hit “Submit”.


Kids not funny? Kids are Hysterical…! One of the best laughs I’ve had this summer was when I was going over sounding out words with my oldest son (he’s about to go into first grade).

“Ok, Michael, it starts with an ‘O’…so its an ‘Oooooh’ sound. ‘Oooooh…’.”

" ‘Oooooh…’. "

“And the next letter, what’s that?”


“And that makes the ‘Rrrrrrrrrr’ sound…”

“‘Rrrrrrrr’. ‘Oooooohh’ ‘Rrrrrrrrrrr’…”

“That’s it…”

" ‘Oooooohh’ ‘Rrrrrrrrrrr’…‘Oooooohh’ ‘Rrrrrrrrrrr’…"

“Its a fruit Michael…”

" ‘Oooooohh’ ‘Rrrrrrrrrrr’…‘Oooooohh’ ‘Rrrrrrrrrrr’…"

“I’ll give you another hint: What’s your favorite color?”

“Daddy…! <frustrated & yelling> I don’t KNOW any fruit that’s Orange.”

Yogi Bera couldn’t have said it better…

I had this pal, who has this kid, who I often ended up babysitting.

For about three months, he did the three-and-a-half-year-old comic routine. His schtick was fairly limited:

“There was this mouse, and he was walking down the street, and he met this dog, and the dog put him in a garbage can. Hahahahahaha!”

“There was a bear, and he needed to go to the bathroom, so he went… …in a garbage can! Bwahahahahaha!”

“Where do birds sing? In a garbage can! Aaaaaaah! Hahahaaha!”

“Why did the chicken cross the road? To get to the garbage can! Hee hee hee hee!”

You get the idea.

It’s funny how stuff like that breaks you up with enough repetition. I’m sure toddlers think they’re comic geniuses. “Another grown-up slain by my rapier wit!”

Several Dopers have been subjected to my son’s surreal penguin jokes.

My oldest (age 5 1/2) and my middle (age 2 1/2) find it hystarical to say
DS1: Uhoh! Better get…
DS2: Maco!
DS1: Uhoh! Better get…
DS2: Monkey!
DS1: Uhoh! Better get…
DS2: Door!

… this goes on and on and on for ages with random items put in place of “Maco!” but still saying “Maco!” on occasion. Don’t even get me started on boys and bodily function humor. :rolleyes:

So one time, I was posting to the SDMB…


That bit was a riot, Larry Mud.

My daughter is 7 now and she still comes out with absurd, completely inane jokes; she appreciates real ones, but she doesn’t seem to grasp why they work.

Nearest she came to telling a real joke (and by accident) was:
Steph: Why did the monkey fall out of the tree?
Me: I don’t know, Why did the monkey fall out of the tree?
Steph: Because it was dead.

But I wonder if she just heard that one on TV or something; I feel sure I’ve heard it before.

My brother and I weren’t that little when we invented the Geography Game for long hours in the back seat on family car trips. The idea was to name a place, then the other person had to name one that began with the last letter of the first place.

Of course it wasn’t really meant to be a game, but something that was totally inane for the purpose of engendering yux:

SP: France.
Brother: Ecuador.
SP: Rome.
Brother: Ethiopia.
SP: Argentina.
Brother: Antarctica.
SP: Argentina.
Brother: Antartica
SP: Antarctica.
… and so on, with ensuing hilarity.

My brother turned out to be much less of a geek than I, I don’t know how that happened.



Can you do me a favour?


Can you buy me some sweets now?
(my niece to my mother)