A woman walks into a welfare office, trailed by 15 kids:
“Wow.” The social worker exclaims.
“Are they all yours?”
“Yep, they are all mine.”
The flustered mother sighs, having heard that question a thousand times before, she says.
“Sit down, Billy.” All the children rush to find seats.
“Well.” Says the social worker.
“You must be here to sign up. I’ll need all your children’s names.”
“Well, to keep it simple, the boys are all named Billy and the girls are all named Billie.”
In disbelief, the caseworker says. “Are you serious? They’re all named Billy?”
Their mum replied.
“Well, yes, it makes it easier. When it’s time to get them out of bed and ready for school, I yell, ‘Billy’ and when it’s time for dinner, I just yell ‘Billy’ and they all come running. And if I need to stop the kid who’s running into the street, I just yell ‘Billy’ and all of them stop. It’s the smartest idea I ever had, naming them all Billy.”
The caseworker thinks this over for a bit, then wrinkles her forehead and says tentatively,
“But what if you just want one kid to come and not the whole bunch?”
“Then I call them by their last names!”
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