On our recent trip to Texas Hill Country, Shannon rummaged through our van’s glove compartment trying to ferret out anything we didn’t need. Maps of at least six different states somehow survived the cut.

The real keeper, however, was a note I had scrawled on a bright yellow Midas envelope. They had replaced a catalytic converter for me and I like to keep records of vehicle maintenance.

The words recounted a brief conversation Benjamin and I had on a trip to central Arkansas.

I told Ben a joke of some sort, and he laughed.

“You always make me laugh off my pants,” he said from his car seat.

I laughed and tried to hold the steering wheel straight.

Not being a particularly well-read toddler, Benjamin tended to make up his own jokes by observing the world around him. This was no exception.

“What did the flag do with the cupholder?” he said.

“I don’t know. What?”

“It put it in the potty.” Unbridled giggling. “Get it? Put it in the potty?” More laughter.

I didn’t get it, but I laughed. On stage, even the best comedian would have trouble finding the right delivery for that joke. Still, I couldn’t stop laughing because he was having so much fun.

Feeding off my reaction, he riffed another. “What did the toilet do with the cupholder?”

“I have no idea, son. What did it do?”

“It tooted on it.” Raucous laughter.

There is something to be said for completely unpredictable punchlines, scatological though they may be.

Just Tuesday night, Benjamin asked Shannon how many of his peanut butter Whoppers he could have for dessert. He’s grown to learn that we quantify everything — minutes left until time to leave or to go to bed, number of pieces of candy he can eat, etc.

He also has learned to haggle, albeit with almost no success.

“Eight,” Shannon said. The serving size was 17 Whoppers.

Ben whined. “Eight is not enough.”

“Yes, eight is enough.”

What? Didn’t he know that show? Everybody knows that.