"There are three kinds," replies the father. "In her 20s they're like melons, round and firm. In her 30s and 40s they're like pears, still nice but hanging a bit. After 50 they're like onions: You see them and they make you cry."
The daughter then asks, "Mom, how many kind of willies are there?"
The mother smiles and says, "There are three. In his 20s it is like an oak tree, mighty and hard. In his 30s and 40s it's like a birch, flexible but reliable. After his 50s it is like a Christmas tree. Dead from the root up, and the balls are for decoration only."
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