Hee, hee. I amuse myself with the stupid puns that pop into my head.
Coco got some new pants from my parents. They’re leather shorts with suspenders, touristically-idealized-German-style. I tried to put them on him this morning. He seemed willing. They got stuck because we hadn’t unbuttoned them properly, so he didn’t want to anymore. At least not now. That’s why they’re called
The good thing about this blog thing is that you can’t physically punch me in the arm now.
There’s a second part. Not punny, therefore more funny.
My sister-in-law is in town. And when she saw them she accidentally called them Unterhosen (paging Dr. Freud). Unterhosen are underpants, in case you’re wondering.
Then she topped it by saying that the only place she’d been to in Germany was Unterhosen. While my jaw dropped and my mind reeled, the kids interrupted and I couldn’t find out what she meant.
I’m only wondering, who was her tour guide?
(See, K? I told you I’d blog about it.)