A family is at the dinner table. The son asks his father, “Dad, how many kinds of boobs are there?” The father, surprised, answers, “Well, son, there’s three kinds of breasts. In her twenties, a woman’s breasts are like melons, round and firm. In her thirties to forties, they are like pears, still nice but hanging a bit. After fifty, they are like onions.” “Onions?” asks the boy. “Yes,” said the father, “you see them and they make you cry.” This infuriated his wife and daughter so the daughter said, “Mom, how many kinds of willies are there?” The mother, surprised, smiles and answers, “Well dear, a man goes through three phases. In his twenties, his willie is like an oak tree, mighty and hard. In his thirties and forties, it is a birch, flexible but still reliable. After his fifties, it is like an old Christmas tree.” “A Christmas tree?” “Yes, dead from the root up and the balls are for decoration only.”