Middle Kids Puns

"Wow, where do you think all those kids come from?"
"Their homes."

Because I work at a middle school, I have a plethora of kids to tell dad jokes to.

My go-to phrase being, “Hoppy Easter! I hope every-bunny has an egg-cellent break!”

My brother’s wife has been pregnant for five months and decided that they wanted to reveal the gender of the baby at our family reunion of about 40 people.

One night, after just finishing up a BBQ, my brother and his wife stand up and announce to the family that they are going to have a little baby girl. Everyone starts cheering, naturally.

Once the cheers die down a little I shout out, “Do you have a name for the baby yet?”

My brother replies, “Yeah. Liana Noelle.”

Everyone starts to “Ooohhh” and “Ahhhh” and proclaim how pretty of a name it is.

Then after a moment I shout, “How the hell are you supposed to spell Liana with no L?”

Edit (10/22/2014): Probably won't be seen or noticed by anyone, but my baby niece was just born today! She's on the opposite side of the country, but I can't wait to meet her!

If he's smart, I can tell my friends that Violence solves problems.

Chronologically that is.

Kids were out in the yard cleaning up their dogs landmines with a scooper and putting it in a wheelbarrow.

Middle daughter (Pushing wheelbarrow) : Mom, it's like a cart for poops.

Wife : It's a shopping cart for doggie poops.

Me (Looks wife like shes lost her mind) : Jesus woman, HOW MUCH SHIT DID YOU BUY ?

Right over the kids' heads.

E* Spelling.

I originally posted this in r/MaliciousCompliance, but several commenters thought it would be good here as well. I hope this isn't a re-run for too many of you.

This was years ago when my son was starting middle school. I was transporting him and a group of his new friends. One of the friends was French, and spoke French at home. My son mentioned that I had taken French in high school, and so one of his friends asked me to say something in French and see if French girl could understand me.

Before I go on, a note on parenting style: we joke around with our kids all the time. I know that not all parents joke with their children; some of my kids' friends enjoyed to a dad who makes a joke, and some would look at me like I grew a second head.

So I said to the French girl, «quelque chose». Immediately the friends turned to French girl and asked "What did he say?"

I waited, wondering whether she would join my joke.

A sly smile crept across her face as she said, "he said...something". The rest of the trip, the friends tried to convince her to reveal what it was that I had said. «quelque chose» is the French phrase for "something".

We were playing "restaurant", and this was a special restaurant that only only animals went to.

In the middle of playing a family of goats came to the restaurant and they were ordering their food.

"Daddy, what's the baby goat going to eat?"

"The kid's meal"

I cracked myself up

I’ve never been so happy to make everyone at a table hate me.

Another player and I were getting into a pretty big pot at the Texas Hold Em table at my local casino last night.

Towards the end of the hand, he went “all-in” meaning he bet all of the rest of his chips.

When he pushed his stacks of chips in the middle, there was a really long hair hanging off of the chips that stayed attached to the top of his chip stack.

When the dealer counted up his stack he said “the bet is $205”

And I replied “ah, so just a hair over 200 dollars then??”

I’ve never wanted kids, but the audible groans I was rewarded with are now making me think I might be ignoring my calling.

I picked up a head cold from my toddler and was worried about it progressing to something worse. Texted my doc, and he said to come in ASAP. That afternoon, he prescribed for me some cough meds, and a nasal steroid to help with the blockage.

I get home, and after putting the still-snotty kiddo to bed, my wife and I retreated to the boudoir to talk and relax. She wanted to know what Doc prescribed. She gave me the perfect setup for a dad joke.

Me: Oh, some pearls and codeine for the cough, and a steroid spray for my nose.

Wife: Where is it?

Me: (pointing at nose) It's right here in the middle of my face.

She laughed. Good thing we were far enough away we didn't wake up the kid.

I just got a batch of letters from the kids I student taught and was in the middle of writing them back.

Me: I only have 8 more letters to write and then I'm done!

Boy: That won't take long! You just have to write ABCDEFGH and be done!

I've taught him well.

So in my calculus class last year in math, there were these two Chinese twins. Ving, and Ling. Ving was always super cool with me. In exchange for answers (he was super smart) I would hang out with him and be his friend and stuff. After I cheated off of him and studied with him though, I did get to be his friend and we got very close.

His sister, Ling, was always uptight about school and she made sure to study, she got stressed about a B, etc. One day I was hanging out with Ving, and we started talking about names. He went off on this huge rant about how he hated his, and how he wanted to change it to something more Asian-American, like Lee. I told him that the Courthouse downtown had a form that you could fill to legally change it. He told me: "I always give you answers. If you could just drive me down to the courthouse this one time, I will never forget you. I just hate this god-forsaken Chinese name and I want to get rid of it forever."

He seemed pretty adamant about it, so I decided the best decision would be to take him. We walked out to my car, and right as I put the keys in the ignition Ling came running and tapped on the car door like a madman. I rolled it down and she started freaking out about how Ving's name had been passed down through generations and generations, but Ving didn't care. He just wanted to go down to the Courthouse and get it over with.

Ling figured that coming with would be the best idea, so if anything else came up that she would be needed for, she would be there for Ving. Honestly, I felt stuck in the middle of a family feud, so I just took her along. When we got to the Courthouse, Ving confidently walked up to the front desk and asked the receptionist if he could change his name. She gave him a little packet of paper and told him to sit down. Ling and I waited patiently while Ving filled out his info. I was watching him fill it out and I noticed he really did want to change his name to Lee.

Before he finished, though, he started tearing up. He told me he couldn't change his name. He asked the lady at the front that he couldn't do it, and she told him he would need twenty dollars to cancel the request. Ling was so relieved and happy that he changed his mind, she dug through her purse, found the money, and started to hand it to the receptionist.

It was at this moment that the most stereotypical Asian man burst through the doors. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, a visor, American flag shorts, flip flops, everything. This

Went out for an anniversary dinner with the wife and kids to the Old Spaghetti Factory. If you're not familiar, their mascot is a trolley car and most restaurants have one right in the middle.

We got seated at a table in the trolley, and service was great... At first. And then it became apparent that our server had given up on any sort of tip. So, at the end of the meal...

Wife: "We shouldn't tip her very well. Our service was terrible at the end."

Me: "Yeah, it really went off the rails."

Wife: eyeroll

This was always one of my dad's favorites to tell us.

A long time ago, there was a beehive in the middle of a forest. Every day, as worker bees do, they would go out into their fields, gather pollen from the flowers, and bring it back to make honey.

The bees had a problem, though, because every so often an intruder would come around, such as a bear who wanted the honey, or kids who thought it'd be fun to throw rocks at the hive. Finally, the bees got tired of it.

Being the intelligent bees that they are, they built an alarm system for the hive. They built it such that one bee pulls a lever, which triggers the alarm that the bees will hear from the fields, and then the bees can come back to protect their home.

There was one bee who was exclusively assigned that job, and he was aptly named the "Lever Bee." His job was to watch for potential adversaries, and pull the lever to raise the alarm.

Now clearly, the safety of the hive depends on this one Lever Bee. So it stands to reason that he has to be constantly ready and on the alert so that he can do his job.

And that, friends, is why people say, "I'm as ready as a Lever Bee."

It is tradition in my family that the first born male be nicknamed Billy until they have a kid. In which case he will then be dubbed "Bill" forever. My dad decided to make my middle name Lee...

The context here is a discussion on encryption on a data storage medium. The kid here is a new guy who is fresh from grad school. The dad here is a senior engineer who looks like middle aged Gordon Freeman with graying hair. The kid was asking questions on how to erase data securely using a particular protocol command. He wanted more information on the random number keys necessary to encrypt/decrypt the data with. It went some thing like this.

Kid: " So you have A key, right ?"

Dad with a sly smile on his face immediately checks his pocket and whips out his car keys and says " No, I have many keys "