Not long after his marriage, Joe and his father met for lunch.
“Well, son,” asked the father, “how is married life treating you?”
“Not very well, I’m afraid,” sighed Joe. “It seems I married a nun.”
“A nun?” his father questioned.
“That’s right,” moaned Joe. “None in the morning, none at night, and none at all unless I beg!”
Joe’s father nodded knowingly and slapped his boy on the back a couple of times.
“Why don’t we all get together for dinner tonight and have a nice talk?”
Joe smiled, “Say, Dad, that’s a great idea!”
“Fine,” replied the father, “I’ll call home and tell the Mother Superior to set two extra plates.”
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A couple whose marriage was on the rocks sought the advice of a marriage counsellor.
The counsellor pleaded with them to patch up their quarrel, but they were adamant.
“So,” said the counsellor, “you know the consequences, and you want to part. Remember this. You must divide your property equally.”
The wife flared up. “You mean the $4,000 I have saved up? Must I give him half? My money?”
“Yes,” said the counsellor. “He gets $2,000. You get $2,000.”
“What about my furniture? I paid for that.”
“Same thing,” answered the counsellor. “Your husband gets the bedroom and the living room; you get the dining room and the kitchen.”
There was a challenging gleam in the wife’s eye.
“What about our three children?”
That stumped him. Shrewdly, he assayed the situation, then he came up with a Solomonic answer, “Go back and live together until your fourth child is born. Then you take two children, and your husband takes two.”
The wife shook her head. “No, I’m sure that wouldn’t work out. If I depended on him, I wouldn’t have the three I got.”