A mother transports a young girl to her friend’s house for a playdate. “Mommy,” the little girl asks, “How old are you?” “Honey, you are not supposed to ask a lady her age,” the mother said. “It’s not polite.” “OK,” the little girl inquires, “how much do you weigh?” “Now really,” her mother says, “Those are personal questions and none of your business.”

Undaunted, the little girl asks, “Why did you and Daddy get divorced?” “That is enough questions, young lady, honestly!” The furious mother leaves as the two companions continue to play. “My mom won’t tell me anything about her,” the little girl tells her friend.

“Well,” the friend says, “all you have to do is look at her driver’s license.” There’s like a report card with everything on it.” Later that night, the little girl informs her mother, “I know how old you are, you are 32.”

The mother is astonished and inquires, “How did you find that out?” “I also know that you weigh 140 pounds.” The mother has moved on from astonishment to shock.
“How in heaven’s name did you find that out?” “And,” the small girl replies triumphantly, “I also know why you and daddy divorced.” “Oh, really?” the mother inquires. “Why?” “Because you got a “F” in sє·