One day, a journalist came to her home for an interview. Curious, he asked about her sons and their names.
“Johnnie,” she replied.
He pointed to the blond one. “And him?”
“Johnnie.”
“The tall one with freckles?”
“Johnnie.”
“And the chubby little one with the cap?”
“Johnnie,” she said again.
“All your boys are named Johnnie?” he asked, puzzled. “Isn’t that confusing?”
“Not at all,” she said. “It actually makes life simpler. When I call out, ‘Johnnie, dinner’s ready!’ they all come. When I say, ‘Johnnie, bedtime!’ they all go to bed.”
The journalist nodded slowly. “But what if you want just one of them?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” she smiled. “Then I use their last names.”
