How to tell if you're a boy

My daughter told me she asked D how he knows he's a boy. I'm not sure what sort of an answer she was expecting—but D looked at her as if she were the single most thick-headed individual on the planet, and said, "Because I have a Kipah!"
When they were at our house, she asked K the same question. He said, "Because I don't have a sheitel or any clothes that are pink."

My new cleaning ladies

K and D were here the other day, and besides being in cleaning mode for Pesach, their favorite toy at our house is the vacuum (go figure--why did I buy all those toys?), so while we were eating dinner, the kids took two bites of their food and then left the table and went into the family room and started vacuuming.
About 15 minutes later, their father went in there, and a moment later he came back into the dining room and said, "Please tell me that one of you tipped the couch over on its back." We all looked at each other blankly. Then we got up to look, and sure enough, K and D had tipped the couch over so they could vacuum under it. Fortunately, they were both standing on the same side of it at the time, so no one was crushed!
Later, D came into the dining room and crawled up on my lap and took my face in his hands in that endearing way little kids do when they want to make sure you are really listening to them, and said seriously, "Bubbie, do you have cleaning ladies?" When I said that I didn't, he said, "You don't have to get any cleaning ladies, because K and I can be your cleaning ladies." (Hey-can I have that in writing? And bring it out in a few years, say, when they're teenagers?)
Today when I got home from work my daughter was here again with the kids, and Papa said they had called him on the phone and asked him if he would pay them to come over and clean. They came over and vacuumed the couch some more, and he gave them each a dollar. They plan to use their earnings to buy Slurpees.
At this rate, their parents will have to start talking to them about opening IRA’s!

Times Have Changed!

K and D were playing with an old 35 mm film camera. After clicking away for several minutes, K asked me, "Why aren't the numbers changing? It still says 'zero'." I answered, "There probably isn't any film in the camera."
K looked puzzled. "What's film?" he asked.

A little help from a brother

K and D had unfolded a long pad of the old-type computer paper- the kind that has all the sheets connected--on the floor from the front windows all the way into the dining room. They counted the sheets--there were 31. After several minutes of the kids walking on the paper, the sheets became separated in a couple of places. I asked the kids if they thought there were still 31 sheets, now that they weren't all attached together. They weren't sure, so we decided to count them again; since there were now 3 separate lines of paper, each of us would count one set and then we'd add them up.
K's set had 17; D's had 12, and mine had 2. K started adding the numbers, but he soon ran out of fingers.
What to do? No problem: he asked D, "Can I use your fingers?" D readily agreed.
Epilogue: since even with all of our fingers we didn't have enough, we resorted to using the calculator.