Small Steps Puns

This is less a joke more of an anecdote.

My wife was looking for a box to store cookie cutters for her cookie business she's trying to start.

My 3yr old picks up a small box maybe a picture frame came in. I've stepped on and tripped on all week. It's slightly mangled and says to my wife:

Here's a box, and she says that one won't work it's too small.

He says: no it'll work. Look at the lid, it even shuts.

Then she said no it's too small.

And he says: it is red and it has this piece of paper, and it will shut.

Then he brings it to her before she can interject and says: here try it, you'll like it...

And by damn she made those cookie cutters fit... But that really nice lid won't shut because it's too small.

Is there a lemon law with 3 year olds?

(Note my 3 year old really talks like that, our 4 year old didn't but this kid has been talking full sentences since he was 18 months old.)

I can't tell you how many times he trolls me better than the best Reddit troll. I'm so proud. Lol

Step 1. Warding them off: Before you go on a hike you should bring pepper spray, better yet pepper spray for bears, it sprays further. Bring bells to make lots of noise and scare them off.

Step 2. Identification. Black bear droppings include remnants of berry husks, nuts, and possibly skeletons of small woodland creatures or fish.

Brown bear droppings smell like pepper spray and have bells in them.

The damage is expected to be 50 square blocks.

It's a small step for dinosaur but a huge leap for mankind

But I guess small baby steps will make me successful

Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevor’s love for tractors.

Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.

Trevors’s degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.

The hedges in Trevor’s front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.

Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.

Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasn’t keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.

One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.

Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.

“Well” said Jeff, “As I’m sure you know the convention comes to town later”.

The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.

“Yes of course” replied Trevor

It's one small step for Nan....

After many years of wandering, he finally arrived in a small village in the middle of nowhere. The people there believed in the same religion as he did, but they had no church; they had to go to the nearest one which was in a small town 25 km's from there. The priest took the initiative, asked the Church for support, and with the help of the local men they built their own temple. From there on, he was celebrating the Sunday masses, joining together men and women in Holy Matrimony, and saying prayers at the funerals.

Many years passed by like that.

At the end of an ordinary mass, in early spring, on a chilly Sunday morning he was just guiding the people out of the church, was about to close the gates when an unknown man stepped into the churchyard.

With his dirty and torn clothes, he stood before the priest and said:

• Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was a good man, and even though he thought the request was a bit strange, he went back to the rectory, took out a lemon, cut it in half, took it back to the man and gave it to him, who looked back to the priest with gratitude. However, the priest was curious. He asked:

• Son, why do you need this half of a lemon? - with a fright on his face, and before the priest could have said a thing, he rushed out of the churchyard gate and took off.

A week later, around the same time, when the priest was leaving the church, he found himself in front of the same man in the churchyard. The man said:

• Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was surprised by the appearance of the man and his strange request. Of course he was good, went back to the rectory, and brought the half lemon. Placed it in the stranger’s hand and immediately he asked:

• Here it is, my dear son, but please tell me why do you need this half a lemon? - the man was obviously frightened and immediately ran away but the priest was not sluggish either and ran after him. He wasn’t in a very good condition, he has never run so much and so fast before so he was out of breath by the end of the village, almost fainted. He thought the strange man might appear again next week, and it would be nice if he could keep up with him, so he spent his week working on his cardio. It turned out to be a good idea, because as he thought, the stranger entered the churchyard on Sunday. The priest didn’t even wait for the request, he was good, and brought the half lemon. He received these words from the man:

• Thank you

A man is riding his horse through the desert, and, well, he starts to get thirsty. He sees a small town off in the distance, so he sets off in that direction to get some water for his horse and some whiskey for hisself.

Well, as he gets into that little town he starts to notice something peculiar. Not a soul is out. Sun's setting, but still plenty of light. Water in the horse troughs tells him it ain't a ghost town, but folks ain't comin' out for some reason.

Now, as soon as he turns onto the town's main street, he sees a soberin' sight; the sheriff, on a ladder, hammering the last nail into a brand new gallows. He sidles his horse on up to the sheriff and says, "Pardon me sheriff. I don't mean to pry, but pray tell, who're them gallows fer?"

The sheriff looks around, surprised to see someone out. He steps down, takes off his hat and scratches the back of his head thoughtfully, before replying, "Well, I reckon you must be a stranger in these parts. I reckon then that you ain't never heard of Brown Paper Bart. Anyway, we're lynchin' him come sunrise."

"Brown Paper Bart? I reckon not, sheriff. That's a mighty peculiar name, pray tell, whaddaya call him Brown Paper Bart fer?"

"Wayill, I reckon we call him Brown Paper Bart on account 'a the fact that everything he wears is made a' brown paper. His hat's made a' brown paper, his boots is made a' brown paper. His chaps is made a' brown paper, his neckerchief's made a brown paper. Heck dang shoot, even his lunch bag is made a' brown paper!"

The man looks at the sheriff a moment, perplexed, before replying, "Well, sheriff, I reckon that's a mighty peculiar thing for a man to do, but that don't explain these brand new gallows. Pray tell, what're you lynchin' Brown Paper Bart fer?"

[Insert a dad-length pause here.]

"...Rustlin'."

Three bulls one large, one medium, and one small are out of grass in their pasture. The large bull looks over next to their pasture and sees another pasture with beautiful and lush grass, so he takes a few steps back and charges straight into the fence and breaks it! The large bull started eating.

The two smaller bulls come in too and start eating the new grass.

"Hey!" said the large bull, "I put in the effort to eat this grass, go find your own!"

So the medium bull finds another pasture right next to the ones they're in, then he charges at the fence and breaks it and starts eating in that pasture. So the small bull comes in and starts eating.

"Hey!" exclaimed the medium bull, who then continued on to give the same spiel that the large bull gave the two smaller bulls.

Then the small bull looks around, but doesn't see any new grass fields. However, he spots a fence that led to a road. So the small bull opens the gate and walks and walks and walks to find that pasture.

Wanna know the moral of the story? A little bull comes a long way.

Dad and I went to the movies are a few years ago to see the second Lord Of The Rings movie and we found ourselves sitting a row in front of the catholic priest, Father John, who married dad and my step mother. We were in a small rural town so they started chatting about local sport and affairs and so on.

The trailers start and they kept talking quietly. Suddenly, a preview for "The Passion Of The Christ" comes on. Afterwards dad says

"Oh, that looks like one for you, Father"

Father John looks a little unsure

"Yeah, well, I've already read the book..."

It's Juan small step for a man, Juan giant leap for mankind!

So my dad just got his concealed weapons permit recently so for Christmas my step mom got him a new pistol. Since she didn't want to wrap a handgun, she printed out a flyer from Cabela's and taped it to a stray dumbbell weight to disguise it and wrapped them up in a small box.

When my dad opens the box, without missing a beat he coolly says, "Oh, look! A new pistol with the mandatory waiting period...."

We have a dog.

He does his business in a pen.

This pen needs to be cleaned out often because this dog is slightly touched in the head and has a habit of stepping in his own feces.

On the regular.

So... it's been getting dark out before I get home and I haven't had a chance to stay on top of the task.

Last night I grab a very small flashlight and go out to the pen to do a quick poop pickup.

2 minutes later I came back in the house, slammed the flashlight on the table and proclaimed to the rest of my family "I CAN'T SEE SHIT WITH THIS LIGHT"

dadjokes are all the better when you are the only one laughing.

A little backstory: my girlfriend has had a small lizard living in her house recently. She's likened him to the mascot of a specific insurance company. Today, she found him looking rather ill and decided to release him outside.

Cue to me leaving her house tonight. As I walked out the door:

Me - "goodnight!"

Her - "Wait!"

Me - "Geez. You scared me. I thought I was stepping on something."

Her - "No, I just forgot to give you something. Oh no! The poor lizard! That would've been terrible!"

Me - " I know!! ... ... He would've never been able to achieve his Olympic dreams as a Gecko roman wrestler."

Her - "Go. Now."

It's one small step for naan, one giant leap for naankind.

I maintain a small pun page on Facebook because a bunch of my family and friends would "complain" every time I'd post an image pun to my personal page.

My 17 year old step-son just sent me this one for the page. I'm so proud of him.