A family is gathered around the dinner table when the son turns to his father and asks, “Dad, how many kinds of boobs are there?”
The father, caught off guard, thinks for a moment and replies, “Well, son, a woman goes through three phases.
In her 20s, her breasts are like melons—round and firm.
In her 30s and 40s, they’re like pears—still nice, but hanging a bit.
After 50, they’re like onions.”
“Onions?” the son asks, confused.
“Yes,” the father says. “You see them, and they make you cry.”
This answer enrages the wife and daughter.
The daughter, fuming, turns to her mother. “Mom, how many kinds of willies are there?”
The mother, smiling sweetly, responds, “Well, dear, a man also goes through three phases.
In his 20s, his willy is like an oak tree—mighty and hard.
In his 30s and 40s, it’s like a birch—flexible but reliable.
After 50, it’s like a Christmas tree.”
“A Christmas tree?” the daughter asks, puzzled.
“Yes,” the mother replies. “Dead from the root up, and the balls are just for decoration.”
