Out of the Mouth of Babes

A five-year old precocious daughter asked her daddy where rabbits lived. To impress her, he straightway said: “In the ground in borrows, love.” The little girl looked puzzled. “Are you sure,” she said, “or is this just another adult fabrication like Santa Clause or the birth stork?” Dumbfounded by her response and eager to recover from his embarrassment, he said? “Not at all, love, this time it’s the truth.” To which she retorded: “Well, dad, if my observation is correct, and at my age I’m free of cataracts, I’d say they must all be sick and in need of medicine.” “Sick...in need of medicine? Love, what are you talking about? And why would you even think that? No, sweetheart, rabbits are frisky, happy animals.” “Well, then, why are all those rabbits I saw yesterday in the drug store wrapped in cellophane, their skins stripped of fur and sitting up with rigormortis? “And while I’m on the subject, Dad, that Easter egg tree you set up on the front lawn yesterday but which I refused to have anything to do with. Even a five year old knows eggs don’t grow on trees, much less in color. Really, dad, what do you take me for, a stupid adult?”