Little Bobby walks into the kitchen where his mom is fixing dinner. "Mom, I got a splinter in my finger. Can I have a glass of cider?"
"Are you sure you don't want me to pull it out?"
"No thanks, just the cider."
So she gives him the cider and watches him trot contentedly off.
Ten minutes later Bobby returns once again and asks for a glass of cider. The mother complies with her son's wishes again, but her curiosity has been piqued to the point where she can't resist knowing why any longer. So she wanders into the family room and sees her son sitting in front of the TV with his finger in the glass.
"Why on earth do you have your finger in that glass," she asks?
"Well, Mom, I heard Sis on the phone say that whenever she has a prick in her hand, she can't wait to get it in cider."
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