The backyard was decorated with balloons that had already started their slow descent toward defeat, much like Dave's hairline. Five friends stood around the snack table, watching little Timmy demolish his third cupcake. "So I told my therapist I have commitment issues," Marcus announced, grabbing a handful of chips. "She said, 'That's okay, we can work through this together.' I said, 'Whoa, whoa, let's not get too serious here.'" Sarah snorted into her punch. "That reminds me of my neighbor who joined a gym called 'Resolutions.' It's only open in January. By February, it's a Spirit Halloween store." "Speaking of fitness," Dave chimed in, patting his belly, "I've been doing this new diet where I only eat things I can pronounce. Lost fifteen pounds and my ability to go to ethnic restaurants." Jennifer rolled her eyes. "My husband tried meal prepping last week. Made seven identical containers of chicken and rice. By Wednesday, he was eating cereal over the sink at midnight like a raccoon with depression." "At least he tried," Tom interjected. "My wife asked me to pick up some organic vegetables. I came back with regular ones and a thesaurus. Told her they were 'naturally occurring plant-based nutrients.' She threw a zucchini at my head." Little Timmy ran past them, frosting smeared across his face like war paint, screaming about dinosaurs. "Ah yes," Marcus nodded sagely. "The birthday boy has entered his feral phase right on schedule." Sarah watched Timmy disappear into the bounce house. "You know what's wild? Kids' birthday parties are just practice runs for hosting people you barely tolerate. Like Thanksgiving, but with more screaming and less alcohol." "Less alcohol?" Dave raised an eyebrow. "Speak for yourself. I've got a flask in my cargo shorts." "Cargo shorts?" Jennifer gasped. "Dave, it's 2024. That's like showing up in a powdered wig." "Hey, these shorts have seventeen pockets. Seventeen! I'm basically a human storage unit." Tom jumped in: "My kid asked me why adults drink wine at parties. I said, 'Because juice boxes don't come in 'I've made terrible life choices' flavor.'" Marcus grabbed another handful of chips. "I tried explaining taxes to my six-year-old yesterday. Told him the government takes some of daddy's money to fix roads and stuff. He said, 'Then why are there so many potholes?' Kid's already more fiscally responsible than Congress." "That's nothing," Sarah countered. "My daughter asked where babies come from. I panicked and said Amazon. Now she thinks Prime membership is how you start a family." Jennifer wiped tears from laughing. "My son told his teacher that mommy's special juice makes her funnier. The teacher asked what kind. He said 'the kind in the fancy bottle that daddy hides.' I got a very concerned email." "At least your kid talks," Dave sighed. "Mine communicates exclusively in Fortnite dances and grunts. It's like living with a caffeinated caveman." Tom perked up. "Why don't scientists trust atoms?" "Why?" the group responded in unison. "Because they make up everything!" Marcus groaned. "That's terrible. Here's one: What do you call a fake noodle?" "What?" Sarah asked, already grinning. "An impasta!" Dave jumped in eagerly. "Okay, okay, I got one. Why did the scarecrow win an award?" "Why?" Jennifer asked. "Because he was outstanding in his field!" "Oh God, we're doing dad jokes now?" Sarah laughed. "Fine. What do you call a bear with no teeth?" "What?" "A gummy bear!" Tom was ready. "Why don't eggs tell jokes?" "Why not?" "They'd crack each other up!" Marcus slapped the table. "What did the ocean say to the beach?" "What?" "Nothing, it just waved!" Jennifer couldn't resist. "Why did the bicycle fall over?" "Why?" "Because it was two-tired!" Dave wiped his eyes. "What do you call cheese that isn't yours?" "What?" "Nacho cheese!" Sarah doubled over. "Why can't you hear a pterodactyl go to the bathroom?" "Why?" "Because the 'P' is silent!" Tom raised his cup. "What did one wall say to the other wall?" "What?" "I'll meet you at the corner!" Marcus was on a roll. "Why did the math book look sad?" "Why?" "Because it had too many problems!" Little Timmy emerged from the bounce house, took one look at the laughing adults, and ran back inside screaming. Jennifer seized the moment. "Speaking of books—what's a book's favorite type of music?" "What?" the group chorused. "Paperback writer!" Dave grinned. "Why did the cookbook go to therapy?" "Why?" "It had too many issues with thyme!" Sarah jumped in. "What did the dictionary say to the other dictionary?" "What?" "You have such a way with words!" Tom was ready. "Why was the geometry book always stressed?" "Why?" "Because it had too many angles to cover!" Marcus slapped his knee. "What did the history book say to the math book?" "What?" "Dude, you've got problems, but at least yours have solutions!" Jennifer couldn't stop. "Why did the romance novel blush?" "Why?" "Because it saw the book cover!" Dave added, "What's a thesaurus's favorite dinosaur?" "What?" "A Thesaurus Rex!" Sarah wiped her eyes. "Why don't books ever get cold?" "Why not?" "Because they have so many covers!" Tom raised his hand. "What did the librarian say to the noisy book?" "What?" "Keep it down, you're making too much racket!" Marcus finished strong. "Why did the autobiography get arrested?" "Why?" "For being too self-centered!" The group erupted in groans and laughter just as Timmy's mom appeared with the birthday cake, looking exhausted and questioning every life choice that led to hosting twenty sugar-fueled children. "Please tell me you adults are having fun," she pleaded. Dave raised his flask. "We're having a novel time." "Speaking of novels," Tom said with a mischievous grin, "why did the toilet paper roll down the hill?" "Oh no," Jennifer muttered, "here we go." "To get to the bottom!" Marcus immediately countered: "What did one toilet say to the other toilet?" "What?" Sarah asked, already giggling. "You look flushed!" Dave wasn't about to be left out. "Why can't you hear a psychiatrist using the bathroom?" "Why?" the group asked. "Because the 'P' is silent!" He paused. "Wait, that was already—" "Different setup!" Tom defended. "Totally counts. Here's mine: What do you call a fairy that hasn't showered?" "What?" "Stinkerbell!" Jennifer snorted. "Why did the toilet paper fail its driving test?" "Why?" "It got stuck in a crack!" Sarah jumped in: "What's brown and sounds like a bell?" "What?" "Dung!" Marcus slapped the table. "Why don't toilets ever win at poker?" "Why not?" "Because they always get a flush!" Tom raised his cup triumphantly. "What did the poop say to the fart?" "What?" "You blow me away!" Dave wiped tears from his eyes. "Why did the man bring toilet paper to the party?" "Why?" "Because he was a party pooper!" Timmy's mom stood frozen, cake in hand, her expression somewhere between horror and resignation. Sarah caught the mom's expression and quickly pivoted. "Okay, okay, enough potty humor. Let's talk about actual parenting fails." "Oh thank God," Timmy's mom muttered, setting down the cake. Marcus straightened up. "My wife asked me to watch the kids last week. I said, 'They're right there, I'm watching them.' She meant supervise. The three-year-old was eating crayons." "Amateur," Dave scoffed. "I once lost my kid at the grocery store for twenty minutes. Found him in the lobster tank section, naming them all after Marvel characters. He was negotiating with the butcher to 'free Thor.'" Jennifer nodded knowingly. "I told my daughter we were having a 'screen-free Sunday.' She looked me dead in the eye and said, 'Then why is your phone in your hand right now, Mom?' I had no defense. She's seven." Tom jumped in: "I tried to teach my son about stranger danger. Practiced what to do if someone offers him candy. Next day at school, he reported the principal for handing out Halloween treats. Got called into the office to explain." "That's nothing," Sarah laughed. "My kid asked why grown-ups are always tired. I said, 'Because we have jobs and responsibilities.' He said, 'So you're tired from being boring?' Can't even argue with that logic." Marcus raised his cup. "To raising tiny humans who roast us better than we roast each other." "Cheers to that," the group chorused, clinking their drinks as Timmy crashed through the snack table wearing a superhero cape and someone else's shoes.