Taking a Chance

by Becky Monson

“Oh my gosh, you are not telling me dad jokes.” I glower at him. He laughs, his head tipping back as he does. He’s got one of those contagious laughs. Under different circumstances I would probably join him. Not because of the jokes, mind you. “How do you tell if a joke is a dad joke?” he asks. “Because it’s super cheesy?” “No, because it’s apparent.” “Oh, gosh, I walked right into that one.”

“What do you call cheese that’s not yours?” “Seriously?” “Nacho cheese,” he says with a smile, hip-checking me as he does. “Terrible,” I say, and if my eyes were open, I would totally roll them.