A woman walks into the welfare office, trailed by 15 kids.

"Wow,” the social worker exclaims. “Are they all yours???”

“Yep they are all mine,” the flustered mum sighs, having heard that question a thousand times before. She says, “Sit down, Leroy.” All the children rush to find seats.

“Well,” says the social worker, “then you must be here to sign up. I’ll need all your children’s names.”

“This one’s my oldest — he is Leroy.”

“OK, and who’s next?”

“Well, this one, he is Leroy, also.”

The social worker raises an eyebrow but continues. One by one, through the oldest four, all boys, all named Leroy. Then she is introduced to the eldest girl, named Leighroy! 

“All right...” says the caseworker, “I’m seeing a pattern here. Are they all named Leroy?” 

Their mum replied, “Well, yes, it makes it easier. When it is time  to get them out of bed and ready for school, I yell, ‘Leroy!’ An’ when it’s time for dinner, I just yell ‘Leroy!’ an they all comes arunnin. An if I need to stop the kid who’s running into the street, I just yell ‘Leroy’ and all of them stop. It’s the smartest idea I ever had, namin’ them all Leroy.” 

The social worker 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?” 

“I call them by their last names.”

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