Father John, while walking along the pavement in front of his church, heard the intoning of a prayer that nearly made his collar wilt. Apparently, his five-year-old son, Rory, and his playmates had found a dead robin.

Feeling that proper burial should be performed, they had secured a small box and some cotton wool, then dug a hole and made ready for the disposal of the deceased.

Rory, the minister's son was chosen to say the appropriate prayers and with sonorous dignity intoned his version of what he thought his father always said, 'Glory be unto the Faaather, and unto the Sonnn, and into the hole he goooes.'

An educational psychologist is asked to see a pupil who draws all his pictures with black and brown crayons. He talks to him. Nothing obvious. He gives him projective tests. Nothing shows up.

Finally, in desperation, he gives him some paper and a box of crayons. "Oh goody," says the boy, "I get an old box of crayons in school and only the black and brown were left.'

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Maggie, was an infant-schoolteacher, and on her first day with the 1st graders at a Primary School, a little girl gave her a note which said: `The opinions expressed by this child are not necessarily those of her parents.'

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Jenny was watching her daddy getting dressed in his dinner jacket [tuxedo] before the party. "You shouldn't wear that, daddy," she murmured. "Why, darling?" inquired her father of Jenny. "Well you know it always gives you a headache in the morning," said Jenny.