Where is that little \#@\$\%\^{}\&*!

A telephone sales person makes a call to an unknown prospect and
a very small, very soft, very quiet, and obviously young person
answers the phone.

Sales person: Hello, may I speak to the man of the house, please?

Youngster: (whispering)  No, he's busy.

Sales person: Well, then, can I please speak to your mother?

Youngster: (in a whisper)  She's busy, too.

Sales person: I see, how about your brother?  Can I speak to him?

Youngster: (whispering)  No.  He's busy too.

Sales person: (losing patience) Is your sister there?  Can I talk to her?

Youngster: (in a whisper)  She's busy too.

Sales person: (by now quite exasperated)  What are all these people
doing that keeps them so busy?!!!

Youngster: (still whispering) Looking for me.


Personal Questions

    Did you hear about the 10 year old boy who asked his recently
 divorced mother her age?  She told him that was not a question to
 ask and that he shouldn't ask it again.

    He then asked her her weight.  She, once again, told him that she
 wouldn't answer the question and that he shouldn't ask it again.

    The next question he asked was why she and Daddy got divorced.
 Once again, she told him that it was not a question he should ask and
 to not ask that question again.  He went away.

    A few minutes later, she found him digging in her purse.
 She asked what he was doing and as he turn toward his mother, he
 beamingly told her he had found all the answers to his questions by
 looking at her driver's license.

    He said, ``Mother, you're 34 years old, weigh 125 pounds, and Daddy
 divorced you because you got an `F' in sex.''


An Only Child

The life of an only child with a single parent can be lonely at times.
When my daughter was three, she often found herself wishing for
companionship on the weekends. During the week there were friends
to play with at nursery school, but on the weekends, it was just
the two of us, and a mommy isn't the same as another little person.
The kids in our neighborhood were all too old to want to play with
a preschooler. Even a pet would have been fun to have around, but
we lived in an apartment, and she knew that pets weren't allowed.
The landlord had said so.

So one Saturday evening as we sat on the steps of our apartment enjoying
the evening breeze, she pleaded, not for the first time, ``Mommy, why
can't I have a baby brother or sister? I want somebody to play with
that can live with us all the time. Pleease can you have a baby?''

``Well, honey,'' I answered slowly, casting about for a way to get
myself off the hook, ``it's not up to just me.'' ``Oh'' she murmured,
then sat silently on the porch, face downcast, thinking hard for
a solution. I was wondering how to console her, when she suddenly
brightened and popped up, ``I know, mommy! You can ask the landlord.
Maybe he'll say yes!''
