Over the weekend, we took a trip with my husband’s family to Branson, an outing that included seeing Moses, a live show that includes animals and special effects.
While we stood in line waiting to enter our section of the theatre — Section C, my husband leaned towards Younger. “This is the dangerous section, Younger.”
Younger eyed him, having already expressed some concern as to our escape plan if the animals decided to improvise their roles. “Why?”
“Yeah,” my husband told him with confidence. “Didn’t you see all the advertising signs on the way down here? The C’s will part.”
And while my husband inelegantly guffawed at his own play on words, Younger looked at me. “Is he serious? Or is that a bad joke?”
I unclenched my jaw to mutter, “Bad joke.”
My husband nudged him with an elbow. “The seas will part. Get it?”
All these years with his father and Younger still had to ask.
That’s almost as bad as the joke.