One evening the son was marching back and forth across their living room.
"What's he doing?" my dad asked.
"Oh, he's playing soldier. He's a soldier," the wife answered.
My dad started laughing.
"What?" the wife asked.
"Well, if he were an American boy playing soldier he would be shooting at the enemy," my dad said. "It's funny that he thinks all soldiers do is march. No wonder every time someone is in trouble they call America."
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