Pull My Finger

I took the kids to Jimmy John's the other day.

Don't you love the signs there?

• The baggier pants, the more resentful the kid.

And:

• Turns out pigs can fly, you just need to turn them into sandwiches first. 

Some of them are wise:

If you do what you need to do when you need to do it,

then someday,

You'll be able to do what you want to do when you want to do it.

and

• The gap between 'more' and 'enough' never closes.

Then I got to this one:

Don't  chew with your mouth full.
Don't have bad manners.
Don't use foul language (unless you are telling a foul joke).
Don't whistle annoying songs that will get stuck in people's head.
Don't carve your initials into things that do not belong to you.
Don't ask kids to pull your finger.

And I stopped reading to laugh.

Gemma asked, "Why are you laughing?" 

So I tried to explain why the command, "Don't ask kids to pull your finger," was so funny, but this made me laugh more.

Joshua asked, "Why are you laughing?" 


You don't believe me about this moment.  You don't believe that it was so funny, I'd laugh until my stomach cramped.  But it was. 

And the only way you'll believe me is if you try to explain to your children--to any child--what the "pull my finger" gag is. 

I mean, what comic genius thought of it?


I flashed back to some college friends, a nice couple who are now happily married.  Shannon told me once that, "Ryan is the KING of 'pull my finger.'" 


King?

After he got her the first time, she was wary of ever pulling his finger again.  So he resorted to trickery, and playing on her emotions, as in, "Ouch-ouch-ouch!  I just totally jammed my thumb!  Can you come here and pull it out for me?"

So, laughing, laughing, laughing.  At this point, the kids laughing with me just because they're so thrilled to see their Mom in such a state.

Then Gemma said, "Hey, Mom, pull my finger!"

And I did.  And nothing happened. 


Try explaining this, people!  That it's not a cause-effect thing. . .  That it's a joke.  That's why I'm laughing.


Joshua said, "Pull my finger!"

And I did.  Nothing. 

Then they started pulling each other's finger, at first with delighted expectancy--maybe they couldn't believe that the body had a trigger mechanism for this function?--that grew into a small frustration.


It was time to go.  The subject was dropped.

That evening, Bryan came home and we were talking as we sat on the couch before dinner.  Joshua charged in and I whispered to Bryan, "I told the kids about Pull My Finger.  Do it to Josh."

Silence.

"You want me to do Pull My Finger?"

Yes.

"With Josh?"

Confirmed.

"Right now?"

Well. . .I don't know. . .is it a guy thing to do this on demand? 

"Hey, Joshua!  Come pull my finger!"

He ran over, en route to the front door, which he was just about to head through.   He looked at me with a small, hopeful smile and he transferred one of his light sabers to be held under his other arm.

He pulled Daddy's finger.

Daddy ripped one.

Joshua's eyes grew wide, his grin spread like a dawning sun and he exclaimed, "Oh, Wow!  The trick worked!"