I had purchased a talking metronome while I was attending a conference in New York for music teachers. Before my son and I boarded our flight home, I hefted my carry-on bag onto the security-check conveyor belt. The guard's eyes widened as he watched the monitor. He asked what I had in the bag, then slowly pulled out the six-by-three-inch black box covered with dials and switches. Other travelers, sensing trouble, vacated the area.

"A metronome," I replied weakly, as my son cringed in embarrassment. "It's a talking metronome," I insisted. "Look, I'll show you." I took the box and flipped a switch, realizing that I had no idea how it worked, "One... two... three... four," it said. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

As we gathered our belongings, my son whispered, "Aren't you glad it didn't go 'four... three... two... one...?'"

THIS JOKE WAS SENT TO ME BY MY BEST BUDDY'S UNCLE :happy:

kaboooooooooooooooooooooooom  : : : ::happy:

to Obama even kids are aware of explosives