The First Mate of a pirate ship nervously ran up to the Captain.

“Captain, there is a vessel coming our way over the horizon.  It intends to attack us.  What should we do?”

The Captain looked at the oncoming ship and replied, “Get me my red shirt.  If I get injured in battle, I do not want the men to see me bleed.”

The First Mate fulfilled the Captain’s order.  They went into battle with the lone vessel and won. 

The following day, the First Mate ran up to the Captain, fear clearly etched on his face.

“Captain, there are ten ships coming our way over the horizon.  They intend to attack us.  What should we do?”

The Captain looked at the oncoming ships and replied, “Get me my red shirt.  If I get injured in battle, I do not want the men to see me bleed.”

The First Mate fulfilled the Captain’s order.  They went into battle outnumbered ten-to-one, and miraculously defeated every enemy ship.

On the third day, the First Mate ran up to the Captain in complete panic. 

“Captain, there are 100 enemy ships coming our way over the horizon.  They are going to attack us!  What should we do?”

The Captain looked at the oncoming ships and replied, “Get me my yellow pants.”

This joke signals the end of one of the more painful periods of parenthood.  It signals the end because this joke was told to me by General Mayhem.  And it’s funny.  It’s very funny.   It is his graduation diploma.  He has a real sense of humor.  He heard it at the Mars Academy last weekend.  Finally, we are moving past the days of made-up jokes that made no sense at all, of knock-knock jokes without punch lines, of humor that does not involve recreating excretory noises with his mouth, armpit, or the back of his knee.  Now, if I can only get him past his desire to belch, “Luke, I am your father!” every ten seconds, I’ll be able to take him out in public again.