A little boy wanted a bike for Christmas.
His mom, short on cash, told him, “Why don’t you write to Jesus? Promise to be a good boy, and maybe He’ll get you one.”
So, the kid sat down to write:
“Dear Jesus, I promise to be good for a year…”
Nah. Too long. He scratched it out.
“Dear Jesus, I promise to be good for a month…”
Still too much.
“Dear Jesus, I promise to be good for a week…”
Yeah, no. He sighed, ripped up the letter, and went for a walk.
Passing a church, he spotted a nativity scene. He looked around, made sure no one was watching, then snatched the statue of Mary, stuffed it under his coat, and ran home.
Then he sat down and wrote a new letter:
“Dear Jesus, if you ever want to see your mother again…”
Kid Math: Wedding Edition
A little boy was at his first wedding. After the ceremony, his cousin leaned over and asked, “How many women can a man marry?”
Without missing a beat, the boy said, “Sixteen.”
His cousin blinked. “Sixteen? How do you know that?”
“Easy,” the boy grinned. “The preacher said it: Four better, four worse, four richer, four poorer.”
