Old Joe was in his deathbed.
Beside him was his family – his wife and four sons, three of whom had blond hair, the other ginger.
“Em, tell me please, I’ve always wondered why one of our sons had red hair. Is he really my son?”
Emma put her hand on her heart and swore fervently that he indeed was his son.
“Oh thank goodness,” croaked the old man and he died with a smile on his face.
As the family left the room, the wife sighed, “Thank heavens he didn’t ask about the other three."
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