In the car on the back seat is a piece of bark. It’s been there for days. I’ve accepted its appearance.
I took my daughter to school this morning.
"Look, daddy," she says holding it up. "It’s bark."
"Hmmm," I say. "It’s rough. Ruff, ruff, ruff! Ruff, ruff!"
"Will you please stop doing that?"
I don’t think she fully understands that as a dad puns are part of my responsibilities. It’s in my job description.
Or maybe she does. 😳