“Joke. It’s a joke, Larry. C’mon, she likes jokes.”
“It was old 50 years ago. And it wasn’t funny then.”
I try and hide a smile. Not very successfully. Our daughter is in her cot, kicking her feet. I tickle her solid little tummy, full of milk, her babygro warm and soft against my hand. She giggles, moving her chubby arms up and down as she lies on her back.
“Jessie would think it’s funny.”
Larry snorts. “She’s four months old, she wouldn’t know a joke if it bit her.”
“Let’s try it. I say My dog’s got no nose. You say How does he smell? I say ….”