Riddle me this - with update from Dad!

There are times when I really abhor the three-hour time difference between myself and my parents. Usually those times are in the evening, when I want to call one of them, only to realize they have likely been asleep for five hours already. As such, we tend to only talk on weekends, which, while not hurting the relationship, doesn't exactly make us closer.

Earlier tonight I wanted to call my mom about something I knew only she could help me with. Knowing she'd have already been asleep, I skipped the call, and now my question is a moot point, resolved before she'll ever even hear about it. Only a few hours later, I am wishing I could call my father, because I know he is one of few people in my life that holds the answer to a question that is simply driving me crazy. Or, rather, he holds the question. I already know the answer.

"Well, well, well."

That's the answer. The question is a joke, a riddle of some sort, of which I can't quite remember the set-up. It goes something like, "What did the bucket say to the hole?" But that's not funny, so it can't be right, and when I Google it, all I get are the lyrics to "There's a hole in the bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza". Did that get stuck in your head too? You feel my pain.

(My riddle, by the way, is not part of the series of arms-and-legs jokes, as in, "What do you call a guy with no arms and legs in a hole in the ground? Doug." I know about 10 of those. Art - on a wall; Bob - in the water; Russel - pile of leaves, etc. Don't get me started.)

It's kind of funny. I heard the song Cat's in the Cradle on my way to work today, and, as usual, I started tearing up listening to the lyrics. I know that song is super cheesy, but it always makes me cry, no matter how many times I hear it. It's not on the radio that often, or at least not on the stations that I listen to, so imagine my surprise when I heard it AGAIN on the way home. This has something to do with my father, I thought. I need to call him.

But I wouldn't call him, because it's Wednesday, and we talk on Sundays, and I could wait four days, especially since, at that point, I wasn't being plagued by a series of "Well, well, wells."

And now I am counting down the days til Sunday, when our schedules might connect, and I can find the question to my answer. In the meantime, if anyone wants to tell me, I'll have that much more time to speak to him NOT about fifth grade riddles. Although, truthfully, I think nothing would make him prouder than to know that I finally appreciate his sense of humor.


UPDATED: Did you hear about the three holes in the ground? (To be said after another person utters, "Well, well, well.") Thanks, Dad.