What is a Bunny’s Favorite Restaurant?

This morning, bright and early, Papa Bear rolled over and with a twinkle that shone through squinty eyes he said, “Hey, if you asked a rabbit how he got around, what would he say?”

My groggy mind swarmed. For some ridiculous reason I really wanted to know the answer to his early morning riddle. I thought and I thought, and then I fell back asleep and started to dream about bunnies.

“Well?”

I startled awake. “I have no idea,” I whispered.

“IHOP,” he announced.

I laughed, because that’s what I do. And then I stopped mid-knee slap and said, “Wait, that’s not funny.”

“Whatever.”

“No, that’s really not a joke,” I insisted as I finally began to wake. “A joke would be something like, ‘What is a bunny’s favorite restaurant?’.”

“But that’s too obvious,” he answered, still grinning the grin of the half awake.

“No, that’s a joke. But you were just trying to plant the idea of pancakes in my mind, weren’t you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Nicely done.”

“Thanks.”

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